Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me, Kill Me
by cloogle
Summary: I don't do vampire stories - so this is my antidote. I wanted to buck the trend and sort out all those legends once and for all. A plot that will have you racing to the end. Romantic, sweet, sexy, soapy, angsty, vampy, chilling, moralistic thriller. AU
1. Chapter 1

Title: Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me, Kill Me. - Part 1

Author: Claire G

Fandom: Guiding Light

Pairing: Olivia/Natalia

Rating: R+

Summary: In an evil-ridden world where you can't trust anyone, two women meet in unusual circumstances and form a close bond, but all too soon their mysterious pasts come back to bite them.

Note: Alternative Universe. Sweet, sexy, soapy, angsty, vampy, chilling, moralistic thriller. It all started with the fake trailer I made for a laugh: .com/watch?v=yvYHLgkawSA and with prompting I just wrote what I fancied.

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters – they are owned by CBS/Telenext Media. Without permission or profit.

Five years, eight months, one week and five days ago

Alan Spaulding had seen my vulnerability, my Achilles heel. I wasn't even aware of it. It turned out, unlike what people had previously suggested, _not_ to be my desire for sexual company, nor my fear of losing control, but my heart. He saw it, handed it to me on a plate, and offered me the world on a silver platter.

My cell was ringing. "Olivia Spencer," I answered, holding up my hand to Alan's face to indicate he mustn't interrupt. "Mm, yeah I know. No, you don't have to tell me... uh huh. I know... I know it's your job, because I _hired_ you to do it, Sally." I held the phone away from my head and looked up. "Look, is this gonna take long? My assistant is waiting in the lobby and getting antsy because I have another appointment to get to, and she knows how I hate being late. So for _her_ sake, y'know, for when I rail on her because you kept..." I stopped because Alan was reaching out, his hands hovering a couple inches away from my chest. I stepped back and canceled the call. "Hey, what's with the zombie motioning?" He pursed his lips but didn't move. "If you're faking your death again, this isn't the way to convince," I laughed, moving his hands out of my path.

"It will not last the course," he said, sounding like a over-dramatic medium.

"My body is doing me just fine, thanks. And if, when I turn forty or fifty or whatever, I need a little nip-tuck -," I made a zipping motion with appropriate sucking noise,"- then so be it. I know beauty doesn't last forever." I pushed my long, dyed blonde, curled hair behind my shoulders confidently.

His expression hardened, becoming almost repulsed; a look I was very familiar with. "Not that, you imbecilic woman," he bellowed.

"Oh, wow, well if you didn't _have_ me earlier when you grabbed me by the arm and yanked me in here, you totally, like, _had_ me at _imbecilic_," I mocked, channeling the spirit of a valley girl.

I had expected him to turn red and pop, but instead he closed his eyes slowly and said: "Not your looks, Olivia... your heart."

"I can assure you, I don't give myself over to just anyone these days." I crossed my arms over my chest and stood up broadly, then, leaning over to whisper conspiratorially, added: "I check for a pulse first." I flashed him a wink.

There it was: the about-to-burst look. "Olivia," he growled, teeth gritted.

"Whoo. Tough crowd today," I murmured to myself. He stepped away and returned to his desk, reaching over to pick up a cigar and snip the tip before lighting it with a calm pucker-up and suck. _At least he has something phallic to comfort him_, I thought, sniffing dismissively and casually checking my cellphone for messages. Bluish smoke drifted in my direction. "Can you get to the point, please? " I flipped my watch round to read its face. "If you have some business to put my way, or a deal, then just lay it out for me." I snapped my fingers and tapped his desk without looking up. "Come on," I encouraged.

"Despite what you might think, and despite our past, I would like to form an alliance."

"After Phillip? D'you really think I wanna go _Spaulding_ again?" I tried to joke but it ended in a sneer, annoyed at the slowness of his explanations. I made a dramatic show of waving the smoke away. My marriage to Alan's son, Phillip, ended violently and traumatically, and despite his assurances, I couldn't help but believe Alan was protecting the little bastard.

"I have a deal for you: one you won't refuse."

"Fine. Try me." I licked my lips and raised my hand. "But I'm warning you, I'm a girl who knows how to say no."

"If you agree to work for me, I will give you everything you ever wanted. Wealth, the fear of your peers... extended life."

"Oh..." I waved a finger lazily in his direction. "Now if you're saying what I think you're saying, then I _really_ should have checked for a pulse." I smirked.

His look stayed the same, he stared into my eyes and held my gaze. "Times change."

"What the hell happened? I turn my back on Springfield for a _year_ and you've gone to the... to the dark side?" I rolled my eyes. "Dark_er_ side. What was it? A case of... if you can't beat 'em... become 'em?"

"One must always join the stronger race." He closed his eyes slowly, moved away, and sank down into his burgundy leather chair. "O-" he blew a smoke ring "-livia. I'm offering you an opportunity... for a lifetime."

"Thanks for the play on words." I pouted and nodded, not taking him seriously, glancing down at a message I'd received. "But I'm not that kind of girl, you can look elsewhere for your sharp-toothed concubines."

"I hate to see a beautiful woman go to waste."

"Okay... compliments I can do."

"You will die."

"Okay, threats I can't. Goodbye, Alan." I swivelled on my heel and made for the door.

"You have a faint heart... and no, I _don't_ mean you fall in love easily, or you haven't the strength of character. I mean you have a _weak_ heart. A failing heart. You'd be lucky to reach the ripe age of forty or fifty."

If I hadn't heard rumors that their kind could see human illness, I wouldn't have believed him. That, coupled with the fact that my heart was currently echoing out a timpani roll in my chest, was enough to stop me in my tracks. "How long before this turns all Mystery Science Theater on me?" I attempted to joke, very uncomfortable with the situation. I itched to leave but found my feet wouldn't take me. "Because I may not hang around for the ending." I didn't turn yet; I wanted to hear his voice without seeing his cold eyes.

"It's the truth. I can hear your heartbeat; it struggles, wanes, then races. Can you feel it?"

"So what?" I finally turned to glare at him "My heart's a horse that needs to be put out to pasture? So take me out to a nice farm and shoot me." Emotion cracked in my voice. "Doctors can do a lot these days. They could get me a new heart."

"Have you been out in the world lately? We control the hospitals. Do you really think that we would let a good heart go to you?" he responded genuinely.

That was about right: a vital human organ, bought up as a cheap delicacy. My knees turned to rubber and my stomach turned over. I fell against the wall, knocking a portrait to one side. I exhaled deeply and watched my hands shaking involuntarily. "You... you have sway. You could make it happen. You could get me a new heart."

"I could. But that's not what I'm offering. It's not in my best interests."

"You're a bastard, Alan. Always have been." I closed my eyes to blink away a tear. "Well, you know what they say... die young... leave a pretty corpse." I attempted to laugh, hysterical fear taking over.

"Is that what you want?" he asked coolly.

My face fell in an instant. "Of course not," I seethed, the words escaping my mouth without warning. My hands flew up to seal my lips, too late, as usual.

"That's what I thought." He sat up and smiled smugly. "So tell me, Olivia, what's your decision?"

Forty-one days ago

I awoke, daylight burning through my still-closed eyelids, cold, frosted ground hard at my back. A jarring headache took a sudden hold, forcing me to keep my eyes shut. "Damn it," I yelped, reaching back to soothe my sore head and discovering a dampness, warm and watery. Pressing my palms to my forehead, I stirred and attempted to look at my surroundings: fields, house... blood on my fingertips.

"Don't move. I'll... I'll be right back; just stay," a sweet-toned, woman's voice called from nearby. I felt her presence, and then the loss of it, accompanied by the tap of running footsteps and a door swinging shut. My vision swam as I eased myself up onto my elbows, which slid into slushy snow patches.

Suddenly, the woman was by my side. Still unable to focus properly, I could identify her only as a stranger. I found myself cloaked by her dark, sweet-smelling hair, as a blanket was gathered around my shoulders. Sweeping my feet to one side, I pulled myself up on my knees as she forced her hands under my arms and assisted my rise to standing. I leaned against her and we walked across creaking boards and into a house. After placing me in a seat beside the fire, she left again and I felt my eyelids droop lazily, weariness racking my body.

* * *

"Ow." My cheek stung sharply and I realized I'd been slapped awake. I looked around, stunned and wide-eyed, clutching my face.

"No. No. No," scolded the woman standing over my slumped figure. Startled, I pouted and glanced up at her with a look of confused innocence; she glared back at me. "You don't get to fall asleep. You... uh, you may have concussion," she said sternly.

"Right now concussion sounds good, and hello to you too," I offered blearily, attempting to focus on her features. Large, dark brown, soulful eyes stared back at me. Her hair was brown, darker than mine, but not by much, and longer too. It fell about her shoulders perfectly like that of a storybook princess. A few lines forming a deep frown graced her forehead.

"Sorry, just... a hit to the head, y'know." She looked off to the side worriedly, rubbing at her temple and licking her lips. "I just don't want you passing out."

"Hit? I don't... who by? Why?" I shook my head, unable to recall the event.

Not making eye contact, she ran the slim nails of her right hand up and down the area above her upper lip. She shrugged. "Crazy person. Probably stole your purse or something."

"Really?" I raised myself up. "Well, we should go -"

"It's too late," she interrupted, shaking her head.

"Wow. Uh, well in that case, would you mind checking my head?" I asked, grimacing, as I felt the painful, sort of sticky, dent with my fingertips.

"You'll heal fine," she dismissed without a glance.

"I was bleeding; that's _serious_."

She cleared her throat. "Fine." Holding me by the cheeks, she turned my head to one side and examined me, pushing her hand through my hair to seek out the damage. The intent look sent an tingle up my spine to the nape of my neck. "I'll have to, y'know, keep an eye on you to ensure you don't fall asleep again," she said simply with a nod of her head, this time rubbing at her chin distractedly. "You'll need ice on that."

"You don't _have_ to take care of me." I pulled her hands down and cast her a pitying look.

"I'll do as I please." She pulled out of my reach sounding mildly exasperated.

"Hey, what's your name?" I asked, naturally curious. She looked at me for a long time. I figured she was sizing me up, getting my measure, weighing her decision over whether or not to trust me. Her eyes darted, examining my face and clothes. I wouldn't have been surprised if she'd supplied a fake name.

"Natalia," she breathed cautiously.

I believed her and nodded. "Natalia," I repeated to make the name sink in. I smiled expectantly. "Aren't ya gonna ask me?"

"Okay," she exhaled then paused. "What's your name?"

"I'm... " It was on the tip of my tongue. My smile dropped. "I... I have no idea."

* * *

"You don't have to play games with me; I was honest with you." Natalia crossed her arms and looked doubtfully at me.

"No, really," I replied, turning frantic. "I can't. I can't even tell you what _year_ I was born."

She looked agitated. "Well, _lady_, we're gonna have to crank that brain of yours into gear real soon." Something in her eyes shouted 'con-artist' at me and I had to admit that I'd be suspicious of me too. "And find out so we can get you back to your life, your... whatever. Now drink the herbal tea I made you and I'll go make you bread and butter."

"Oh, you're really spoiling me. What kind of outfit do you run here? Some sort of sadistic health spa?" I teased. She looked down at me with disdain. "Sorry," I coughed, and caught her arm as she went to turn away. "Wait. That was really ungrateful." I winced and then pointed at her. "We know one thing though: Whoever I am, I appear to be sarcastic, so it might pay to get used to that."

"I doubt you'll be staying long," she said, pulling out of my grip and walking into the next room.

I took the opportunity, my vision now having cleared, to take a look at the house. "What _happened_ here?" I called out, my eyes growing wider at the sight.

Natalia didn't need to return to know to what I was referring: the devastation was all around. "Fire," she responded simply, after an extended silence. I heard the slam of silverware. "Upstairs is better."

Broken glass lay in dusty heaps in the corners of the rooms, having been swept to one side. "You must have a good vision for potential," I said, unintentionally sounding mocking. "Are you renting it or what? Your landlord must've had a heart attack."

Another long silence. "It was abandoned and, trust me, I _really_ didn't have a better place to be."

"Oh, well..." I said softly, picking up a singed cushion and turning it in my hands before hugging it to my chest as Natalia offered me the plate. "I'll find a way to pay you back when, you know," I rolled my eyes dramatically and took a deep breath, "when I know who the _hell_ I am."

Natalia's eyeline flicked towards a crucifix above the fireplace, which was barely visible next to the sooty, blackened wall. "Mm," she said, absentmindedly, before looking me up and down, clearly chewing the inside of her cheek. "You need clothes; those are soaked through and there's blood on your collar."

"I'm fine," I protested.

"It wasn't a suggestion," she said curtly.

* * *

We trudged down a narrow path between snow-covered fields and toward town. The sun had set and there was only the moonlight and a little passing traffic to guide our way. "Don't you care about the curfew?" I asked, pulling my arms around me against the cold, grateful for the sweater, slacks and thick, black coat that she had provided for me.

"Nope." Bound up in winter gear, Natalia struggled to shake her head, restricted by her thick scarf. "If you care then you can go." She pointed over her shoulder.

"Hey, no, I get the feeling I'm not one for rules." We walked in silence for a time. I scooped up a handful of snow from a wall and crunched it between my palms, deep in thought. I couldn't decide how much I was bothered by my lack of memory. Each time I tried to recall a face or a place it was like reading a book in a foreign language. The odd recognizable image flashed by, but from the rest I could gather only a tone and it wasn't altogether pleasant. I threw the snowball hard at a stop sign. "Whoop," I cried as it hit dead center and smashed into slush. Natalia looked at me bemused. "Hey, maybe I missed out on a childhood," I offered as reasoning for my actions.

"Uh huh... 'kay." She blinked and I thought I spied a smirk on her lips, but it was very hard to see and so could've been a scowl.

My stomach grumbled, evidently not used to small portions. "Are we getting food?" I asked hopefully. "I'm hungry."

"Already?" she asked me, clearly disgruntled. "Really?"

"I don't expect the gods' am_bro_sia, it's just that I'm only human and a girl's gotta eat." I shrugged and grinned.

* * *

"Come _on_." I nudged my shoulder into hers playfully. "Tell me about yourself. I can't tell you about me because I've sprung a leak in ma' noggin." I pointed wackily to my head but she didn't look amused. "Natalia, come on. We could be friends."

"Groceries. We're here to get groceries." She looked at me like I was a mentally-challenged child and pointed at the store's shelves one by one.

"Okay, okay. I get it. I'm the weird stranger you found almost dead on your lawn. Not ideal circumstances for a firm friendship, I know. I know."

"I need flour." She remained stoic against my silliness.

"Fine," I conceded, raising my hands in surrender. "You go get your groceries and I'll -" I looked around for something interesting "- I'll go over here and see if I'm on the missing persons wall. You never know, I might get lucky and find there's a reward for finding myself." She ignored me and busied herself along the aisles of the machine-manned, neon-lit mini-mart. Clucking my tongue and rubbing my chin thoughtfully, I perused the notice board: missing pets, missing people, public announcements and seedy club leaflets. But no me. "Easily remedied", I smirked, borrowing a pen from the stationery section and flipping over a blood drive notice to the blank side.

* * *

Natalia approached, a shrug at the corner of her mouth, looking slightly concerned. "Well?" she asked.

"Struck out," I replied, shaking my head. "Nobody's looking for me. I guess it's not been that long."

"I've got what I needed. We can go."

I looked down at the small paper bag she was carrying in the crook of her arm and nodded. "Um."

Taking a deep, impatient breath she drew out a gloved hand and pressed three dollar bills into my palm. "Go. Get whatever you want."

"An allowance," I exclaimed, my eyes sparkling with an undeniable glee as I looked around the store. "Oh, oh. I remembered something."

"What?" She looked up at me again with those large, worried eyes.

Our gazes locked, and with an air of seriousness, I said, "I like Cheez-Its."

"Whoop-de-doo," Natalia intoned with as much feeling as the grim reaper in the center of an armistice.

I snatched at her arm as she went to turn away, my temper rumbling to the surface. "Christ, you know if anyone should be sad, it should be me. I've had my purse snatched. I've been hit on the head, which, by the way, is killing me, and I don't know _who_ I am or _where_ I'm gonna sleep tonight. I've no money and no friends." Fear showed in Natalia's expression and I realized that if you want someone to trust you, verbally attacking them probably _isn't_ a good start.

"Hey." She shook her head. "You... you know nothing about me. You..." She trailed off, looking at the floor, her paper bag crackling as it compressed in her arms.

"You won't _tell_ me anything about you," I plead, voice cracking, wishing for nothing more than to be told of her woes and sob stories so I could get my mind off the lack of my own.

"I'll wait outside. Go get your _snack_," she sneered.

* * *

Having sensed that I was being judged about my food choice, I changed my purchase at the last minute, scanned the security code and fed the money into the payment machine. Outside, I found Natalia looking at the night sky; she looked thoughtful. "I got protein bars... on discount, too. See." I waved them in the air proudly, almost expecting praise. "Here, there's change. Not much but -"

"Keep it." She pushed my hand back towards me.

Thirty cents wasn't gonna exactly buy me a night at a motel, but I didn't argue. I looked down the street, idly wondering if I could persuade one of the homeless to let me share their cardboard box. Not that there are any homeless any more, the weak and meek always being the first to be plundered. An involuntary shiver ran down my spine. "I should go see if I can find a place to stay." I pointed a thumb over my shoulder and stepped backwards.

The concern on my face must have shown because Natalia was scratching her eyebrow, pensive and clearly troubled by her thoughts. "Look, you're in no shape -" she stopped just as suddenly as she had began. I could almost see the good Samaritan in her trying to burst its way out, despite her efforts to restrain it. I suppressed my desire to look hopeful by biting the side of my bottom lip. "I can't cast you onto the street," she continued. "Whatever kind of person you are. I just -" she sighed "- can't do that. Even if I end up paying the cost in the end."

I narrowed my eyes at her. "So..." I pouted and shook my head. "You're saying... what exactly?"

Looking like she'd just agreed a pact with the devil: "You..." she exhaled, "you can stay with me."

I took her roughly by the hand and grasped it tight. "I promise you won't regret this."

"Oh, I don't know about that." She shook her head and took the lead in the long walk back to the house.

* * *

Suddenly I was _really_ wishing I'd bought the biggest bottle of cheap liquor I could have found. Hell, rubbing alcohol would have been good right about now, but then that _really_ would have seen me sinking into my new role as a nobody, wouldn't it? Didn't stop me contemplating any medical supplies Natalia might have, though.

"Have you been alone for a really long time? You _do_ know this isn't a normal conversation for two adults to have? Don't you?"

"Don't mock me," she rebuked.

"But... but... you want to _lock_ me in the room? What do you think I'm gonna do, hit midnight and turn into a damned werewolf?" I raised my voice with, what I felt, due incredulity. "Unlike some creatures, _they_ don't happen to exist." I could sense that this woman might have me clawing in cupboards for cough syrup before dawn.

"_You_ don't know anything about _you_," Natalia replied, her fist moving with each emphasized word.

"That's no reason to pre-judge me. Besides... you could be a serial killer and I wouldn't know. Can't you just _trust_ me?"

"You're right." She blinked slowly. "You're right," she repeated to herself under her breath. Raising her hands she turned on her heel to leave me standing in the hallway. "Good night," she called back weakly. The door to her bedroom closed softly and I heard a key turn in the lock.

Returning to my room, I paused, then clicked shut the door and hesitantly locked it.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me, Kill Me. - Part 2

Forty days ago

"Jeez, did you sleep at all?" I asked, covering a yawn.

Natalia was looking a little gray, her once bright eyes now dull. "I hardly get much sleep... ever," she sighed. It seemed to me that she'd been alone for so long that she couldn't help but let loose these personal details.

"Well, good news, I didn't die in my sleep from this head wound, for which I'm grateful, but I didn't recover any memories, for which I'm _not_." I sat down at the kitchen table. This room, unlike the others, appeared like the eye of the storm. The units were damaged and scorched, but every surface was perfectly clean; Natalia's priorities evident on that score. She passed me a plate of plain toast, and placed jars of honey and jelly at the center of the table. I wondered if I had been so well looked after in my life to date. "This bread is amazing," I said, astonished, my mouth still half full. "What did you do, get up at like four am and bake it yourself?" I joked.

"Yes."

"Oh." I swallowed hard. "Well, it's amazing," I repeated, this time with more candor.

"Coffee?"

"You're just an answered prayer, aren't you?" I propped my fist under my chin and rested my elbow on the table.

"I'll take that as a yes." She raised an eyebrow at me.

"Strong and straight up," I requested, making a guess at how I'd normally take it, and adding "please" as an afterthought.

* * *

Left alone to my own devices, Natalia having left for the day, I slunk about for a while, politely avoiding her bedroom but invading everywhere else. The house was a strange mix of styles; partly tacky, partly welcoming. What seemed more strange were the clothes lining the tatty closet in the room she'd given me to use; they were surprisingly well-made and classic. Natalia had dismissively waved her hand at them when she had shown me the room and granted me permission to take as I pleased. It felt morbid, wearing a presumably dead person's clothes, which ranged from dress suits to cocktail dresses. Natalia didn't wear those sorts of things; not that she couldn't have pulled them off if she wanted, she was just a plainer sort of woman.

With so many abandoned houses in Springfield, people usually flipped from place to place and picked up whatever they wanted. I didn't favor any of the shoes; too uncomfortable-looking, so I stuck to the knee-high boots I'd turned up in. I found it odd to imagine the previous day: me, sitting somewhere, maybe on the edge of a bed, pulling on those boots, preparing to go out. _And do what? Visit_ this _farmhouse?_ I wondered. Scratching my forehead and pouting, I peeped out of the window at the rolling snow storm, and decided not to venture out in search of my identity just yet.

"Right, what to do for the next eight hours while my mystery woman is out?" I spoke aloud to myself, preferring that over the eerie silence. I perched on the window ledge and imagined figures of salvation appearing through the flurry: a husband, maybe. The snow began to fall harder and louder against the house; a blanket of white cascaded down the glass. Turning my hands over, I noticed the absence of rings. Boyfriend? Children? Such an odd feeling, not knowing if you've ever given birth. However, my current desire to check for stretch marks was nil as I didn't need depressing further.

Jumping up, I made my way downstairs, making sure to avoid sliding my hand down the fire-scorched walls and rail. "Okay, what to do? What. To. Do?" I looked around the living room and, if the house could have spoken, it would've said: 'Well, duh.' I slapped my thigh before wincing at the job ahead. At least this was something my hostess would surely appreciate. Pushing out my bottom lip, rolling up my sleeves and nodding, I announced to the room with a clap: "Let battle begin."

* * *

Already lost in a house I wasn't familiar with, my job was made ten times harder by having to scavenge for the right tools and cleaning equipment. Half an hour alone was spent trying to locate a torch to use in the basement. I swore loudly upon finding it hanging conveniently on the back of the damned door. After much frustration, and a bruised elbow gained trying to unsuccessfully wedge a spoon into a stuck cabinet door, I settled into my task of cleaning the walls and stairs. No sooner had I started, I'd begun contemplating arson to finish the job.

Six hours later, after much suppressed screaming, and with two extremely dirty hands, arms and cheeks to show for it, I'd made a significant dent on the work. The stairs were now an actual color instead of smoky gray, and I'd scrubbed the walls. Tired, but a with huge sense of satisfaction and achievement welling up inside me, I made my way upstairs for a victory wash.

* * *

The shower fixture's logic evaded me for some time as I stood there in the tub, shivering in the cold. I felt the need to reassure myself that I'm normally an intelligent and intuitive woman, but I couldn't even say that for certain. For all I knew, I could have escaped from the local loony bin. "I don't feel crazy," I announced into the blissfully warm shower stream as it finally cascaded over my soot-streaked face. Luxuriating in the feeling of soap suds slipping along my skin, I wondered what else I should do.

* * *

I heard Natalia stamping the snow from her boots at the back door and so opened up and ushered her in, dragging her thick coat from her shoulders and guiding her into a chair at the kitchen table. "Welcome home," I said cordially, untying the apron from my waist and throwing it onto the counter.

"Er, okay," she said uncertainly, looking up at me, distinctly bewildered.

"It's not much, but I think you'll like it." I served dinner: simple vegetable soup and some of Natalia's home-baked bread. I smiled meekly, sitting opposite and politely clasping my hands on the table, patiently waiting for her to be the first to taste.

She just stared at me wide-eyed, mouth agape, holding her hand to her chest in surprise. "I..." she began.

"What?" I said, taken aback. "Surprised I can cook? I know I am."

"No. I... was... I thought... I thought you were going to say grace."

Confused, I saw her staring at my hands and immediately unclasped my fingers. "What? No. I'm not... I don't... _think_ I do that praying stuff. I'm just waiting for you to try the food," I explained.

Natalia nodded serenely, eyes closed and relief on her lips. She bowed her head and whispered under her breath. I didn't know quite where to look, and so dipped my head until I saw her pick up the spoon.

Thirty-nine days ago

An empty house and still an empty head. I couldn't resist. Blame the person I decided I must have been: I checked out Natalia's room.

It couldn't have been more basic if it had been in a convent. In that moment, curiosity killed this cat's belief that there was any more to Natalia than met the eye. A few scattered possessions, a hairbrush and a crucifix over the bed. No mirrors, but then there weren't any in the rest of the house, and that wasn't unusual either. Once the population's table had tipped, and the 'other kind' had become the leading race, the reflective market was crushed. With vampires in big business, what they wanted went, and they didn't like the reminder that humans were one up on them, so they took it away.

One touch of luxury was the bed, which was covered in a beautiful, delicately-patterned comforter. I sat down on the corner and felt the fabric against my fingertips. Closing my eyes, I took a deep, cleansing breath. A pleasant memory came to me: my mother, sitting perfectly upright at her dressing table, her face reflected in the beautifully ornate three-panel mirror. Then me, behind her, aged around five with a brush in my hand, running it through her beautiful, glossy hair, which glowed incandescent in the blazing sunshine. I shrugged my shoulders with joy, reveling in the moment. Not all my memories, I decided, would be as sweet as that, but it still gave me hope.

* * *

"Have you remembered anything today?" Natalia asked, her tone curt. I watched her blow softly on a spoonful of stew.

"I did actually," I said smugly, tearing into the bread.

"Yeah?" She looked at me curiously, like she expected me to say something about murder or prison.

"Mm, a memory of my mother."

At first, her look seemed to say: _'You had a mother?'_ but she softened. "Oh."

"One down, eight billion to go. It's oddly echo-ey up there." I tapped one of my temples.

"This is nice." She pointed at our meal. "Very considerate of you. And the work on the house." The phrasing was robotic and stilted; a gracious smile passed unevenly over her lips.

"Look," I said, rubbing at my eye and sighing. "I know you don't trust me, and I don't know how to help you with that." Natalia reached out towards the middle of the table to pick up the pepper, but I caught her by the wrist. She didn't struggle, just looked at me dejected, her mouth down at the corners. "I know that these days evil roams the street and runs the local laundromat. I remember that like I remember how to walk and talk. And you're absolutely right to be suspicious of strangers, but I guarantee you that I will _not_ hurt you."

"How do you know _I_ won't hurt _you_?" she asked, yanking her hand away roughly and refocusing on her bowl.

"I know you want the upper hand. I get that. But I can see it in your eyes; there's no evil in there."

"You sure about that?" She looked up and shot me a hard stare.

"Sure I'm sure. You can act like a lion but you're still a kitten," I smirked. "Come _on_," I yelped, swaying my head from side to side in disbelief. "How you're managing to hold up this façade, I'll never know. I can tell, despite all your wariness, that you're one of those innately good people who drive the rest of us insane."

She frowned and dipped her head, like a bull preparing to rage. "You don't know that." Her smooth, pink cheek twitched with annoyance.

I met her stare and countered with a smile. "You took me in when you didn't have to."

She shrugged her shoulders and mouth sweetly and, holding my gaze, reached out for the pepper again. "This stew is very good."

"You said that," I laughed.

"It deserved to be said twice."

"Well I need to say something for the _first_ time. Thank you, Natalia. You saved me."

Thirty-two days ago

And so that was how things ran for us: I would greet her with whatever wholesome dinner I could create from the healthy foods she insisted on buying, and she would compliment me, then ask if I had recovered any more memories. We would share polite conversation for the evening and then depart to sleep behind closed doors. Never failing, she always locked hers.

Then, one day, there was something more. The proverbial key in her lock turned, just a little.

"What were your memories today?" Natalia asked with a smile on her face, twirling spaghetti onto her fork. Her demeanor had much softened over time, after listening to the various stories of my childhood that had come back to me.

"Mm," I said, swallowing my mouthful quickly. "My first."

"Your... first?" She was sucking on her lower lip, looking perturbed.

"Yeah, I was thirteen."

"Thirteen?" she echoed under her soft, catching breath.

"Yeah, first love. Not, y'know... sex or anything, just romantic." I smiled broadly. "Not exactly fireworks but he was cute, the son of the gardener. I remembered he once brought me a rose -"

"I think I'll go to bed now." Natalia rubbed distractedly at the nape of her neck, then scraped back her chair and went to leave.

"Don't you want to know more? You usually..." I shook my head at her, waiting for her to interrupt me. "It's only eight o'clock. You haven't even finished your food."

She looked at me, then blinked, cold disappointment in her eyes, and turned away. "I can't," she said quietly, without turning around. "Good night." As she walked away, I heard her mutter Bible verse under her breath.

That night I realized I was wrong; that there was definitely more to Natalia than met the eye. She was a lost soul, and I very much doubted that I would ever find out why. But I _really_ wanted to know.

Twenty-nine days ago

I clawed desperately at the comforter, ramming it underneath my sides to seal in the pitiful warmth. "Urgh," I groaned, screwing up my face in frustration before begrudgingly making the leap out of bed, shivering as I pulled on a robe.

"Natalia," I whispered through her door. "Natalia, do you have another blanket I could use? I'm freezing my ass off out here." I tapped on the door but there was no response. I went to turn away, but, instead, something made me try the handle and, to my surprise, it swung open.

I peeked into the modest, moonlit room and watched Natalia roll onto her side, a tormented expression on her face and faint trails of tears drawn along her cheeks. With trepidation, I decided to check on her and found her fast asleep. Perching on the side of the bed, I touched her forehead: it was clammy.

She let out a quiet sob. "Don't leave me," she whispered.

Instinctively, I immediately replied: "I won't."

She winced, her breathing slow but erratic. "Too -" her chin began to shudder "- late".

I stroked hair from her face and held her cool cheek. "It's okay. It's only a dream, Natalia." I soothed her, as best I knew how, by tracing lines around the back of her ear with my fingertips and speaking softly. "It's okay," I whispered. It seemed to calm her.

A frameless, unfamiliar picture was propped up against a lamp on her bedside table. Picking it up to take a closer look, I found it was a photograph of a young boy, around five years old, maybe six. He definitely had the look of her. I put it down and looked back at Natalia. "I'm just gonna go," I whispered, easing myself up from the side of the bed and looking around for spare blankets.

She reached out and grabbed my arm tightly, yanking me back down to her level. "Don't."

Twenty-eight days ago

"Right, me," I said aloud, wanting to refer to myself by name. _'One day it will fall out of my mouth and I'll be a whole person again,'_ I thought, chuckling quietly. I had thought about coming up with a temporary name, but felt it would be detrimental to my recall process. Natalia tended to call me 'You', 'Lady' or, depending on my mood, 'Miss Crabby'.

Daily chores had become part of my routine. In fact, they were pretty much _all_ of my routine apart from the evenings, which I spent with Natalia. I didn't actually mind or care about the work, and had become quite protective of this temporary home. I stared at my hands for a moment, doubting I'd been used to this drudgery before; skin as soft as this doesn't come after years of manual labor.

I was happily forcing scrunched newspaper into the fireplace when something metallic dropped out of the grate. "Weird," I said aloud, picking it up and turning it in my hand. A wristwatch, gold and very expensive looking. I wiped its broken face clean: Cartier, of little use or value now. I tossed it to one side. "Santa's wearing bling these days, huh?" I joked to myself. However, clearing through the ashes, I further dug out a pair of charred diamond earrings. _'So what?'_ I thought, holding them up to the sunlight, pouting thoughtfully. I knew there'd been a fire and that a woman had lived here, so they must have belonged to her. I heard a door click shut, then the sound of running water.

"Natalia?" I called through to the kitchen.

"Have you got your face sooty already?" she answered, raising her voice over the sound of the faucet.

"Nope. It's just I was wondering what you knew about the fire."

"You know how to make a fire. I've seen you do it," she called out, sweetly confused.

"I mean the house fire. When did it happen?" I asked.

"Oh, uh, I... before I started living here."

I nodded slowly, standing to lean against the wall. "And how did you know that whoever was living here wasn't gonna come back?"

"Seemed pretty abandoned to me," she said, after an extended silence.

I could understand Natalia's doubts about revealing information about herself, but this? It made her look downright suspicious. "Her clothes are still here. Someone's still paying the electricity, gas, water. Don't you think that's a bit off?"

"You done?" she appeared next to me.

"Almost, Ma'am," I gave a smile and a lazy salute, crouched again, and continued to build the fire. A fine necklace chain appeared in the ash, delicate and now in pieces, lying like gold dust in the dirt. "So what?" I said to myself, more uncertainly than before. I threw the jewelry in the trash and lit the fire. "So I just keep locking my door at night... that's what," I muttered under my breath.

But I looked up at Natalia and she was the woman with the nightmares, the woman who took me in, the one who kept me safe. Still, I couldn't help but ask the burning question. "Why won't you tell me more about you?"

"All you need to know about me, you can find out by looking at me," she said, sweeping her hair behind her shoulders to tie it back.

* * *

I washed my hands in the kitchen and returned to find Natalia standing by the fire, staring pensively at the waste can. "Hey," I said, touching her arm. She blinked rapidly and turned to face me. "You said I could take a look at you, right? Please?" She didn't even question it.

Letting my hands slide their way down her arms, I picked up her hands and turned them over in mine. I ran my thumbs along the lines where her fingers met her palms. "No ties?"

I think I tickled her because she began to blush. "So... what? You're a palm reader now?" she asked with an adorable pout.

"No rings," I explained with a smirk. "Um. Children?" I chanced.

It would seem she could not help but answer me on this one. "This world is a cruel place. My life should have been so different." She snatched her hands away and tugged at her necklace.

"You lost a child?"

"Long time ago." Natalia's shoulders slumped.

"Attack by a -?"

"No," she interrupted, her look sharp. "M... medical."

"I'm sorry."

"Are you the sort of person who feels for others?" She narrowed her eyes at me and the question was clearly a genuine one.

"I feel _sorry_." I clenched a fist and spoke with conviction. Natalia let go of her delicate gold cross necklace, which she always wore without fail, and I reached out for it. She shrugged away sharply but, when I reached out again, she allowed me to take it between my thumb and forefinger. "One of the last few people in this world who believe in God... and that includes _priests_." I felt the edges of the cross against my fingertips. Natalia looked shocked that I would take note of her religion.

"I kept my faith because, unlike some people, I don't believe that living in an immoral world gives everyone carte blanche for immorality."

"Wow," I mock gasped and blinked rapidly. "I bet you're a riot at parties."

Natalia looked at me distinctly unimpressed, arms folded.

"Are your nightmares about losing your kid?" I asked.

She looked confused. "How do you know that I have nightmares?"

"You told me you don't get much sleep," I blurted, not wanting her to know I'd practically had to rock her to sleep the previous night.

"Oh, yeah, well." She chewed on her lower lip. "Well, it doesn't matter what they're about."

"They are, aren't they?" I held her by the shoulders, not only to comfort her but so I could hold her gaze. "It's okay to be angry: you were helpless; you had a major loss. I'd be pretty angry at God or whoever."

"You don't get to decide what I should or shouldn't be angry about." If Natalia had been a cat, her hackles would have been up. "And never presume that I would _ever_ forsake my Maker."

Well that was me told.

Twenty-four days ago

I awoke curled up on the sofa, my shoes removed and at least four blankets tucked under and around me. I blearily checked the clock and realized that Natalia had already made her way out for the day. Ruffling my hands through my hair, I blinked and yawned. I didn't remember falling unconscious, but I'm guessing it happened or I would've made it to bed. We'd spent the night celebrating the fact that the house now looked, almost, like a proper home. Okay, it was still scorched in places, but we'd patched it up as best we could, and cleaned that place within an inch of its life. It looked pretty damned good. Natalia, in that mysterious way of hers, had produced a few bottles of vintage wine from the basement. She claimed she'd stored them after her employer had thrown them out, because they were produced in a country he didn't like. Who was I to argue?

Two weeks had passed and I still knew very little about Natalia. Every direct question had been evaded, even when she'd thrown back a few. But I knew something: she was beginning to trust me. After all, you don't drink that much with someone with whom you don't feel safe. I'd picked up a few clues about her during our time together: never been more than a base wage earner, only been in town a couple months, and I'm certain she was originally from Chicago with family from Puerto Rico. Not to mention that girl really giggles when she's drunk; it makes her eyes shine.

I could say for certain that I felt truly content. This crazy little house felt like a place I could be myself, whoever that was turning out to be. Little did I know that fate was gonna come calling and turn my world upside-down.

* * *

Bang. Bang. Bang. I was alone in the house and Natalia wasn't due back for at least another hour.

"Damn it, hold on, the door needs hinges y'know." The windows shook with another loud knock. The house being in the middle of nowhere and Natalia never bringing anyone over, meant that this was my first visitor in all this time. My hand hovered over the handle before I considered that I really should be carrying a weapon or something. Outside was either a cloth-selling hawker or a blood-sucking monster. I'd have actually preferred the second; get some frustration out. I looked around and picked up a pan, feeling its distinctive weight in my hand. "Hello?" I called through.

A moment of silence, then: "It _is_ you, isn't it?" A deep, impatient man's voice bellowed through. "No more games."

"Uh, can you tell me why you're here and who you are?" I called back.

"Just let me in, Olivia," he sighed.

Weird, yeah, that about sums up how I felt at that moment.


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me, Kill Me. - Part 3

Twenty-four days ago

I drove my hands into my pockets defensively and looked up at the man's broad, imposing figure. "Wow, well, ah, what was your name again?" I asked, uncertainly.

He was dressed in a dark three-piece suit, enshrouded by a thick camel-colored coat, and wore a silk scarf tucked beneath a trimmed, graying beard that framed his glaring face. "Olivia," he sighed impatiently, standing stock-still and looking at me sternly. "My name, as _well_ you know, is Alan."

"Sorry. I..." I narrowed my eyes. "Are you really saying my name is... O_li_via?" I slapped my hand to my chest. Surely my own name should've meant more to me. But then he might as well have referred to me as 'Woman' or 'Thing' and, judging by his character, it seemed like something he might actually do. I didn't exactly have the best instincts about Alan; he made my spine itch.

"You really don't remember?" he asked doubtfully. "No memory whatsoever?"

"Nothing." I shook my head. "Well, saying that, I do, _clearly_, know how to walk, talk, eat. I'm pretty sure I could drive and you can pop quiz me on the civil war any time, but as for memories of things I've done... people I knew?" I snapped my fingers. "Nada, zip, zilch." I let my voice take on a haughty English twang and added: "The lady of the 'ouse is not at 'ome."

He frowned then nodded, his thoughts clearly ticking over. "Well, when I was brought the note you left at that in dreadful mini-mart -" he sneered "- establishment, I really had no idea what had gone on. To be frank, I wasn't sure if it was some kind of hoax. The information was sparse, to say the least."

"I didn't have much to go on at the time; no ID or... or much of anything. I did my best."

"Yes, well, the hand, the tone of brash self-importance, and the not-so-stick-like, cartoonish diagram of your shapely figure was more than enough to assure me." His gaze slunk its way down the curves of my body and made me feel a little sick. I folded my arms over my chest.

"Hold up," I raised a hand. "How do I know you're not just playing some big trick on me? You might just be the kind of sick guy who picks up chicks that way."

Alan trailed a knuckle over his lips and looked pensive for a moment. "You have a faded scar on your left forearm."

I didn't need to check; I'd noticed it a week or so ago. I placed my hand on my sleeve, as the mere mention made me super-conscious of the silvery line beneath, like it was a new wound that I needed to shield and protect. Narrowing my eyes, I pursed my lips and wondered what else he knew about me. "So you know me, right? Tell me. I'm dying to find out."

He chuckled. "Olivia. You have quite a life. Successful, wealthy -"

"Wait. Rich?" My mouth dropped open, eyes wide with disbelief, as I thrust an arm out in his direction.

"Oh yes, our house is most grand and you want for nothing."

"Our..." Bowing over, I slumped down into the closest chair. "We're _married_?" This seemed to be a lot to take in in one day.

Alan raised an eyebrow and his mouth drew a broad, wide smile. He pulled out a cigar and lazily lit it before exhaling a reply: "Oh, yes."

At that moment, there was only one thing on my mind, and it wasn't about money or about what my wedding must've looked like; it was about the pride I had for a home I was soon to leave. "If you're gonna smoke that -" I gave Alan a pointed,hardened look "- take it outside."

* * *

"_Spaulding_? I can't be Olivia _Spaulding_. It sounds like a fungus." I cringed, waving my hands in Natalia's direction. Alan had long since left, but had promised a car to collect me in the morning.

"Spaulding?" she echoed, with an equally disgusted face, as I eased her coat off her shoulders and hung it up.

"He thought I'd been away on business," I explained, excitedly. "And I'm rich... did I say that already?"

"Shouting 'Natalia, I'm rich, I'm rich, I'm rich,' as you ran down the path to greet me was _kind_ of a big clue." She rolled her eyes, cheeks full and rosy from walking in the cold. "So..." Natalia swallowed and her mouth twitched on one side as she struggled not to drop her smile. "I'm happy someone came to find you."

Walking away from me, she pulled her clasped hands up to rest against her mouth. I grabbed her by the elbow and she turned to me looking surprised. "I'll make sure you're okay," I assured, biting at my lip nervously. "I'll look after you, get you money and a house."

She shook her head, eyes wide and sparkling. "I don't get you. Why... why would you do that? You don't even know me all that well. Why would you be nice to a stranger like me?"

"I know all I need to know about you, right? And it's like you said to me the day you rescued me," I smirked at her. "I'll do as I please."

Eyelashes fluttering, a tear streamed down her face. "I'm..." She swallowed the rest of her sentence.

"Hey, no. No need for crying." I pulled my sleeve over my hand and dabbed at her cheek hesitantly. "This isn't a sad day."

Her shoulders fell. "Olivia," she breathed.

My response caught in my throat. Natalia gave my name meaning and I found myself craving the sound of it. "Don't. Don't say any more. Just, y'know, have a little faith." She looked me directly in the eyes and edged timidly forward. My breath catching in my throat, I motioned for a hug and she allowed me to take her in my arms. Shuddering, her body stiff, Natalia was unwilling to submit fully to the embrace; she still didn't trust me and that hurt. "I'll prove it to you, I will. I'll be back soon." I pulled back and she stepped away.

Grasping her cross in a tight fist, Natalia looked at the floor. "Having faith is supposed to the easy part," she muttered, dejected.

Twenty-three days ago

The driver was tapping his steering wheel impatiently as he watched me pace back and forth along the porch deck. I refused to let his impatience hurry me.

Natalia, who was sitting primly on the bench with her hands covering her knees, cleared her throat, a quizzical expression fixed on her face. "Olivia," she said, then sighing and looking heavenward, added: "I can't believe you actually have a name. All this time..." Her forlorn doe eyes shifted to catch my gaze. I stopped in my tracks and waited, hoping that she might explain to me why I was finding it so hard to leave. "You'd better go," she said, resolute.

"I guess so."

"Unless..." she added under her breath, but stopped.

"Aren't you gonna be late for work, or...?" I asked. It was already sun up and Natalia was usually long gone.

"I don't... it doesn't matter. I'd rather be here." She stuck out her lower lip.

"Don't get fired for my sake." I bit down on the end of my thumb, feeling extremely nervous, now more concerned about my future than my past.

"Trust me, I won't," Natalia said, shaking her head as I sat down beside her.

"I don't know why this is so hard," I explained. "I mean, this... this isn't my home, you aren't my family, but..." I licked my lips and pressed at my forehead with the back of my hand.

"But?" she asked, pulling her shoulders up as she turned to look at me expectantly.

"But I didn't know who I was before I met you, and that is _so_ important."

"You still don't know quite who you are, who you were." Natalia reached up to tease hair away from my eye-line, pushing it back behind my ears. "But you will."

The spine-tingling shiver coursing through my body wasn't caused by the chill in the air. My eyelashes fluttered involuntarily. "These past weeks -" I looked down shyly "- it's been the best time of my life."

Natalia shook her head and frowned at me. "With such a small frame of reference, technically it's been the _only_ time in your life. You wait, you wait 'til you start remembering more things and all this'll... this will fade like some itty-bitty, crappy vacation." She inclined her head to one side and shrugged. "Now, you, -" she smiled sadly "- go find your place in the world and try, for your own sake, to let God guide you. Let Him counsel and watch over you." She inched closer. "I'll never forget you, Olivia."

"I'll never forget you either," I breathed uneasily, biting at my twitching lips.

"You think you can manage that?" Natalia's eyes twinkled.

"Oh me, oh my, a _joke_. Who'da thunk it, huh?" I nudged her gently.

We said an awkward goodbye and I quickly set off for the car, but Natalia rose suddenly and chased after me. "I have to ask... just once."

I pouted with curiosity. "What?"

"I -" She opened her mouth and then stopped herself.

"What?" I encouraged, eagerly.

She rubbed at the back of her neck and squinted in the light of the morning's rising sun. "I know I said... it's just... I... are you _definitely_ sure? Sure that you want to do this? I mean, you could stay here and wait a little longer."

"I can't not go. I have to find out. I have to believe that I led a life worth knowing about," I replied. Natalia nodded at me, her head dropping and her bottom lip almost shuddering. I put my fingertips under her chin and made her look at me, bending my knees a little so that our eyes were level.

"Come back," she frowned.

"I will. I'll come back to check on you. I'll come back and I'll keep asking you questions about _you_, okay?" Natalia reached behind her neck and began to unclasp her cross. "No." I grabbed her arms. "You need that; I want you to keep it. Honest, no." She relented begrudgingly. "Now you just make this easier on me and tell me to get gone already."

Holding my face in her hands, Natalia leaned in as if she was going to whisper something in my ear, but instead she paused. I felt a light kiss to my cheek and my eyes fluttered closed.

Then I left.

* * *

"Ah, you're finally here." Alan greeted me as I entered the house via the impressive hallway.

"Yup," I replied as some butler type took my bag from me and disappeared with it. I could say for certain that the building, or should I say mansion, did feel familiar; I knew the layout instinctively and felt a little calmer because of it. However, my innate disdain for Alan worried me. _Could I have ever really loved a man like Alan?_ I tapped my chin with my thumb. _Or had I just been after him for his money?_ The latter seemed more likely, but I didn't want to suit the bitch title I was steadily bestowing upon myself. Then again, a little bit of bitch can go a long way, and the rich don't get richer by being selfless. Alan led me through to the study. I'd have bet a hundred bucks not one person in this house had ever lifted a book from the extensive library that lined the room's walls, and that probably included myself. Buoyed by the thought that I'd actually have $100 to bet on anything, I dropped my bag and smiled. "So what's the plan? Re-familiarize me with friends and family, flick through old photos, that kinda thing?"

"No, no, I don't think that will be necessary," Alan said abruptly, making me flinch.

I bowed towards him as I spoke. "Well are ya gonna throw me a bone here? You're the only person I've met who even knew my name." I picked up a magazine from a side table and began flicking through the pages.

"I've waited a long time to have you in a position of weakness again, and I'm going to take _full_ advantage, Olivia."

Alan was attempting to act the villain; all he was missing was a Persian cat in his arms and a scar across his face to complete the look. "Hey, if you're gonna be like that, you know where you can stick your riches." I turned to leave.

He paced forward quickly and, grinning sinisterly, grabbed me by the elbow so tightly that I began to lose the feeling in my fingers. I yanked my arm away but he clasped my wrist, pincer fashion. "Enough insolence," he growled. "I tired of your attitude many years ago."

"I'll go to the police," I warned.

He beamed. "I own the police; I own this whole town. There's nowhere to run, Olivia. And no one to run to."

"Don't be so sure," I snapped.

I didn't see his hand hit my face; I just felt the unbearable sting of pain and the uncontrollable sob rising in my throat. "Baxter, Ellis," he called out. I was swiftly flanked by two strong men, who forced my arms behind my back. Alan strolled away to sit at his desk and began glancing through a newspaper. "Be kind enough to show _Mrs_ Spaulding to her suite," he smirked, wafting his hand in my direction.

"Get the hell off me," I screamed. My muscles became taut, straining to pull away as the men dragged me backwards. "What is this? House arrest by the great sheriff of Springfield, huh? Don't mess with me, Alan."

"Why, Olivia, what could you _possibly_ do?" he laughed.

* * *

My chest raged hot with anger; it enveloped my heart, which was cold with fear and loneliness. I threw my bag hard against the wall and it burst open. I looked at the sorry pile; my whole world, now strewn on the floor. A near-perfect existence at the farmhouse, left behind thanks to my idle curiosity. I'd recovered a few scrappy memories from before my attack, but since then I'd made sure to gather every detail of my time at the farmhouse. Each night waiting on the porch for Natalia to come home; every feeling and emotion recorded and treasured. Simple acts had been major events in that short time.

I yanked at the door, hit at the locks on the windows, stomped on the floor and smashed anything remotely breakable. Consequently, I became even more bruised than I had been when I was thrown kicking and screaming into the suite in the first place. Lost and alone, I sank to the floor and sobbed into my hands.

Twenty-two days ago

I wanted to go back, rewind. Imprisoned for a day and I was already going stir crazy. Being surrounded by luxury made me feel a whole lot worse. Faced with three hundred thread count sheets, I missed my cold, uncomfortable bed. Given chef-prepared cuisine, I craved simple bread and soup. I glared at the TV, which was showing yet another in a slew of re-runs, and bile rose in my throat. Standing, I threw the remote at the wall and the screen blipped off. I wished for the calm silence of the farmhouse, the faint, papery sounds of turning pages, the fire's crackle. I closed my eyes and pressed my lips together, my breathing slowing to a shudder.

If this house and life was mine, then that peaceful, quaint existence should have driven me insane. I hadn't belonged there; that wasn't my world. But there were only so many times I could tell myself that before I opened my eyes and remembered my pathetic situation. That may not have been my world, but if anything was going to give me cabin fever, it was _this_. I slammed my hand against the wall. What did money mean now? I thought of Natalia and what she might be thinking of me and my avaricious behavior. What choice did I have? I had to come here. If Alan had turned up as some penniless bum, I'd have still wanted to find out who I was. _Wouldn't I?_ I tore my teeth across my bottom lip.

Slumping face first onto the bed, I thought about the day I'd woken up at the farmhouse. It made such sense now. I worked it out, how I must have run from Alan, fled to somewhere I thought he'd never find me: a remote and disused, burned-up farmhouse. I touched the place where I'd been hit on the head that day. A henchman, I decided, must have been sent for me, but left me for dead. I'd had my chance and I'd thrown it all away. I'd even left Alan a calling card telling him exactly where to find me. I couldn't believe my own stupidity. Having escaped the tiger's den, I'd casually walked back in, bag in hand, a smile on my face.

I squeezed my fists tight, letting my nails dig into my palms, feeling disgusted by my own naivety. "Stupid. Stupid." I'd been granted a golden opportunity for a new beginning and I'd left it all behind. Reaching out, I grasped a pillow and brought it to my face to muffle a loud scream. Having escaped once, could I really expect to be able to do it again?

Nineteen days ago

Stuck in a hellish limbo, with the torture of a repeating day, I spent most of my time waiting for the next interruption. Hating it, wanting it, praying for it. Usually I'd be blessed with periodic visitations by staff, meek little people I tried to push past or bargain with to aid my escape. It never worked anyhow; they were always followed by one of Alan's heavies.

I'd not long since given one of those heavy-handers a swift knee to the balls and, right now, I was expecting a little visit from the master himself. My left eye twitched at the sound of approaching footsteps.

"Have you quite calmed down?" Alan's familiar voice barked through the door.

"Are you _kidding_ me? How in hell's name am I expected to be calm, you rat bastard?" I yelled back while trying to wedge a butter-knife under the window frame. "Locked up here like a damn animal," I muttered bitterly under my breath. The knife bent comically as I pulled down on the handle. A growl rose in my throat, followed by a long stream of curse words. Hearing the click of the lock, I lunged for the doorway, only to be forced back as Alan's strong hand jabbed against my abdomen. I bounced towards the table like I was on elastic. This was something I was getting used to. Constant failure never stopped me trying, though. "It's late. Shouldn't you be tucked up in bed, Alan? Surely you've have had a hard day harassing the general public? Or, I suppose, you have people to do that for you?" I derided rhetorically.

"Time for a fresh start, Olivia?" Alan closed the door behind him. His attitude was cool and so all the more sinister and unnerving. I flinched as he turned the key in the lock, then dropped it into his breast pocket.

"With you?" I crossed my arms over my chest and made a show of strength, fear notwithstanding. "I'd rather make a deal with the devil; I'm told he offers a good medical plan," I sneered.

Alan sniffed and continued. "Surely you see your memory loss as a chance to begin anew?"

"_Anew_," I exclaimed, like a sneeze. "From what, Alan? I don't know who I was before; no one will tell me. All I know is that the staff shrug away from me. No one will talk to me, barely look at me, even."

"You were a force to be reckoned with; still are, I think." He narrowed his eyes, looking me up and down like he might be wondering if I was deceiving him.

"That doesn't _tell_ me anything, like why you've got me locked up like this, practically bouncing off the walls like a mental patient." I tensely pressed at my temples, reining in my tempestuous emotions, looking up at him through my eyelashes.

"Your demonstrable ruthlessness, your wiles and ways with men." He held out his palm casually.

"Oh, ok, so _finally_ a clue as to what I was like before," I said angrily.

Alan blinked slowly. "You are exactly who you _always_ were."

"So what does that make _you_, Alan? Some kind of wicked little preacher come to drill it outta me? What's this? Reform? Damn strange way of doing it. What, say I do twenty Hail Marys and a little self-flagellation as a bonus, then you let me go? Huh? Is that what you want?"

"Don't be absurd... though I do like the idea of the lashing." Alan laughed so hard he almost choked. "Why would I wish to rid you of your best qualities? It's was merely your lack of -" he sought out a suitable word "- prostration, that I wish to develop in you."

"These knees do not touch the floor _anywhere_ near you." I jabbed a finger in his direction and grimaced.

"Always the smartass. Always. Certainly not one of my favorite things about you." He rubbed at the coarse hair on his chin.

"Oh, and what was it that I ever liked about you?" I asked sincerely.

"Power, Olivia. I think that should be clear enough."

I shook my head, stepping back as he stepped forward. "I flat out refuse to believe that. I'm not that woman," I said with conviction, but my mind was telling me otherwise.

"What happened to you after you left here? Did you honestly believe you could be one of the good ones? Honest and true?" He cornered me and took hold of my shoulder, digging his fingers into the muscles of my back. "You couldn't have been more wrong."

"I found a place I could call home and I should _never_ have left."

"I never thought I'd hear you so... so mawkish. It's almost endearing." He pursed his lips. "Almost."

I attempted to prise his hand away but his grip tightened. My knees buckled slightly and I couldn't help but wince. My breathing shuddered in anticipation. Then, when Alan smiled, I caught sight of his newly-pointed incisor teeth. Closing my eyes, I gulped, and on seeing my reaction, he merely walked away, clearly restraining how amusing he found the situation.

"If that's my end," I said, sweeping my hair behind my ears nervously. "You may as well kill me now, because I don't want to be that way," I shouted at him. "I don't want to turn into a _monster_ like you." I rubbed at my neck and it clicked with tension.

His chest rumbled with laughter. "You don't understand, Olivia. You are _exactly_ like me. And I know this for certain, -" he looked directly at me, his eyes bright and stormy, full of triumph and gloating, "- because I made you that way."


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me, Kill Me. - Part 4

Nineteen days ago

I stumbled backward and found the wall for support, my legs and shoulders leaden. I could barely move. "No, no, no. There is no universe in which that would make sense to me. Not even this one. I don't know much about myself, but I don't believe I would be stupid enough to enter into any kind of agreement or exchange with _you_."

Alan patted his chest. "Your heart was failing and you permitted me to grant you a prolonged life. It's very simple."

"Oh, how chivalrous of you," I managed to deride. "Are you _honestly_ telling me I was dying so you _kindly_ offered to turn me into a... into a...?" I shook my head and squeezed my eyes shut, but the nightmare refused to fade. "What kind of a life would that be?" I shot him a sharp, doubting glare.

"The kind you opted for, Olivia, and there's no getting away from it. I can tell you about the day it occurred if -"

"I don't need the CliffsNotes, Alan. I get the damned picture."

He stepped forward, grabbed my hand, and forcefully placed my own palm flat against my sternum. "Try to remember. Try to remember what you lost a long time ago." He walked away, leaving my hand on my chest. "And more importantly, what you gained."

It should have been heart attack time but instead, my heart was a steady as a rock. My hand crept to my jugular, my fingertips futilely searching for a pulse. My throat let out a cry. "Why is this happening to me? Why couldn't it have been simple? 'Hey, lost your memory? Here's your nice, simple husband, two kids, house, garden, and guess what... you're only twenty-nine.' Instead, I'm served up a death sentence of minus... minus..."

"Five years," he filled in the gap.

My eyes widened. "What?" I uttered incredulously, barely able to breathe, let alone believe what I was hearing.

"Five, almost six," he recalled, tapping at his tie and looking off to one side. "I have a note of it somewhere, if you like." An impish look of glee and wistfulness crossed his face. "The things we've done, the people we've -"

"Don't continue with that sentence." I covered my mouth, my stomach churning. My sinuses burned and tingled all at once with the threat of tears that refused to be shed. It was all too huge to take in.

"If you hadn't let me turn you, you would have _died_, Olivia. You have to understand that, and I couldn't let that happen to such an... incredible woman." He attempted to cup my face in his hands but I shifted out of his reach. "And that's exactly what I'm doing now. I won't watch you go to waste, just as I wouldn't back then."

I should've been dead; my time had run out years ago. Instead, I found myself on the path to an eternity with Alan Spaulding. I should have become worm food long ago. If I'd had a working heart, I think it would have given out.

* * *

After spending the longest time crouched up against the end of the bed - Alan having since left, when I'd summoned the energy to throw a chair at his face - I began looking intently at my hands. With despair, I wondered what evils they had committed. _Whose blood has drained across my palms? Whose flesh have I torn at with these nails?_ My breath shuddered as I stood up, a lump in my throat. I wanted to see my reflection; I wanted to see it so badly. Knowing that there was no surface, no way, no trick to make it happen pushed me to the edge. It gnawed at me, torturing me like an itch I could never scratch, made all the worse by my inability to even recall my own features. I held onto the vision of myself as a child, reflected in my mother's mirror, but it provided little comfort.

I hadn't cared too much before, back when I thought I was just a regular woman: no mirror, no reflection; no big deal. Vanity hadn't been top of my list of vices. In the past weeks, I'd not worried about make-up either and, of a morning, I'd always asked Natalia to check I didn't look like a crazy person. I'd laugh and she'd always adjust my hair nervously and tell me I looked perfect.

I remembered her face as she had looked at me, nervous and unsure of herself, but so intent, so kind. "Oh, Natalia," I held my mouth, thinking about the position I'd put her in. She'd been right all along. I hadn't known what I was, and she was right to lock her door. I wondered if she'd known, but treated me like a human being anyway. _I always said you were one of the good ones._

I decided, there and then, that I could never see her again.

Fifteen days ago

Longing for a distraction from the endless sleepless nights and wary glares from the staff, I decided that if I could at least get my head stuck into the business for a while, I could live some kind of useful existence. I requested a meeting with Alan and soon received my escort.

"I don't have any faith that you won't disappear again." Alan squinted at a set of papers. "And most of the work you undertook previously was overseas, which is far too risky."

I sat on his desk, much to his annoyance, and tiredly rubbed at my face with my hands. I peeked over to read his work. "Import, export?"

"Absolutely."

I pouted, narrowing my eyes. "Doesn't sound so bad." I'd expected Alan to be a criminal, something colder and more rotten than just a hardened business man. It didn't make sense.

"Perhaps we _should_ get you back on board," he smiled keenly. "If you're interested in trafficking then your instincts must be returning."

"Oh, trafficking, huh?" I pursed my lips. "So drugs?" I nodded, raising my eyebrows expectantly.

"Drugs? No, Olivia. People." Alan was once again distracted by paperwork. He tutted and scribbled notes.

"Pe... oh, God, this doesn't get better, does it?" I almost slumped off the desk, my arms turning to Jell-O. "For -" I wasn't sure I wanted to know the answer "- prostitution?"

"Mm? Oh, not generally. A few for servitude. The majority are farmed."

I was unable to believe my ears. My eyes wide, throat tight, I barely dared ask the question, to which I needed to know the answer. "When I worked for you, what exactly -" I was unable swallow the ball of tension which had welled up inside me "- did I do?" I coughed.

He looked at me, beaming with pride. "You established and ran our extremely lucrative, and popular, _'matchmaking'_ agency. Rick, I've re-introduced him to you, haven't I? Anyway, he has taken over for now but frankly doesn't have the balls, or the knowledge, to make it the best. Unlike you. But then he was hired to medically assess those acquired, and not for his business sense, of which he has none."

There seemed little point dreaming that my organization was created for good, old-fashioned dating. "Right," was all I could manage. No room for comebacks here; I was temporarily frozen. It's one thing to be told that you have the capacity to be wicked; it's quite another to be told that you used it to your full advantage and made money from it. I licked my lips and tried to breathe life back into myself. "And I... what? Controlled these operations? This 'capture and dispatch to order' service?" The look of disgust on my face must have been evident, but Alan was off in the sick paradise that was his head.

"Perfectly. As a matter of fact, ours was the best team there had ever been." Alan got to his feet and walked around the desk. We came face to face. He picked up one of my hands and pulled me to my feet. "It will come. You will return to your former self." He ran his thumb roughly over my knuckles. "And perhaps that should begin with a reminder of the commitments of our marriage." Grasping my cheek firmly, raising my chin with his palm, he pressed his lips to mine. With my jaw being so tense, I couldn't help but let him. He dropped me and turned back to his work.

"Oh God," I said under my breath. "Oh God."

* * *

The suite door closed and I promptly ran to the bathroom to throw up. "Who am I?" I spluttered as I washed my face and examined my hands with new perspective. With each revelation, Alan was opening my eyes onto a world that I was thoroughly, mentally and physically sickened by. I stared at the rippling water, waiting for the waves to die, hoping to see a glimmer of myself in the brimming basin. There was nothing, just the reflection of the light above me. I roughly pulled the plug and watched the water swirl away.

Clenching my eyes shut, I tried to remember who I had been, but it wasn't coming naturally. "My name is Olivia Spaulding. I am sadist and sinner and one half of a tyrannical power couple," I said aloud to myself, trying to make it sink in. I didn't _want_ to remember any of it.

Searching the cabinets for something to calm me, I came across a labelled medicine bottle. I turned it over to check the contents. "Alan... you complete and utter freakin'..." I seethed as I tossed back a few pills and swallowed hard.

Twelve days ago

I think Alan enjoyed lording it over me, and for now I let him. It meant I could leave my room without being monitored, for starters; that is, once I'd found the ability to speak again, let alone walk. Constant visions of genocide had been flooding my mind's eye in a endless show-reel. I hadn't slept properly in days. I didn't want the time to come when I would actually recall a real event as horrific as those that haunted my dreams, because even those were too much for me to bear.

"Just as before," Alan said calmly, rolling one thumb over the other, as he lounged back on his dining chair at the head of the table. "You will come to feel the incessant, pleading urge."

He could pump as much sexuality into sucking blood as he wanted; it didn't make it any more appealing to me. I'd been awake for about an hour and had already made sure I was doped and liquored up. It worked for me. Killed the guilt a little. "Sure. Great. I look forward to it. Can I have pancakes?" He raised an eyebrow. "Hey, if you're going insist on making me treat the evening like it's the start of the day, then I'm gonna want breakfast at sun down." I pleaded my case. He waved a hand in agreement. "And champagne? And bacon. Actually no, not bacon." I didn't want anyone thinking I had a taste for meat.

Alan gritted his teeth. "Have whatever you want; I really don't care. Just send down for it." He directed me to the phone. While my cravings were for food and drink alone, Alan barely took notice.

I swung open the drinks cabinet doors, grabbed a bottle and spun off the lid. "I miss my home," I murmured into glass of bourbon, then downed it in one, preferring delirium over reality. Well, delirium served with side orders of baked, fried and chocolate-covered food, or all three. I was easy. It took my mind off the fact that I wasn't exactly a real, living person. It was either that or rocking gently in the corner of the room, and I'd tried that the previous day.

"You really have lost your mind, haven't you, Olivia?"

"Memories, Alan, just memories. My mind is fine." I tapped my head ineptly and almost poked myself in the eye.

"You call that dilapidated wreck a home? It looked like you'd set fire to it."

"Hey, excuse me, it was looking pretty damned good by the time you just... just waltzed in like you owned the place." I stared into the bottom of the glass, as if the remnants and reflections might tell my fortune. "Besides. Home is what you make it." I pinged the glass with my nail.

"You were happy _here_." Alan stabbed at the table with his index finger.

"Happy?" I walked over to the large arched window and watched the clouds drift over the moon. "What kind of messed up person is happy living this kind of existence?" I asked rhetorically, running my fingertips over my lips.

Alan joined me. "Beautiful night," he breathed, steadily encroaching on my personal space. I felt my skin crawl as a cool hand lifted the back of my shirt.

"Get off me," I growled.

"Now, Olivia. You'll only really begin to remember once we are reunited."

"Oh, give it _up_. I know we're not married; I found a bottle of diazepam with my goddamned name on it." I pulled it out of my pocket and rattled it in his face. "See. O-liv-ia S-pen-cer. And if you're trying to trick me into bed now, I'm guessing we were never lovers either."

I found it completely off-putting the way he smiled every time he angered me. Now was no different. "Olivia, could you really blame me? If you could see yourself, such a picture of beauty..."

"Yeah, well, I can't see myself, thanks to you... no reflection, remember?" Alan attempted to turn me by the waist so forcefully that I squirmed in pain. I pushed him away and stumbled outside, closing the glass doors and throwing him an appropriately rude gesture through the glass. "Asshole," I shouted loudly.

He laughed silently.

* * *

In the gardens, one of Alan's business frontmen, Rick, was taking time out for a smoke. Sitting alone on a bench, I watched the pudgy-faced, dark-haired man wander the grounds. He approached an opulent lover's seat, inset into a row of well-manicured evergreen trees, beside which stood a pale, moonlit statue poised in a pathetic, drooping pose. I rubbed my shivering arms, the bottoms of my slacks steadily growing wet from the snow. I glanced back at the glowing window of Alan's study and then again to the statue, which now seemed to be moving; one weak hand rising slowly. Frozen in place, I realized what I was seeing.

Blood on the figure's neck appeared black as molasses and it slid slickly down pale skin. I rubbed at my eyes. Rick wiped his chin with his sleeve, and my instincts kicked in right away. Stepping up, I marched purposefully toward him with a fire hot in my belly. I stumbled forwards, unable to clearly see the ground beneath my feet, alcohol altering my depth perception, my breathing quick and unsteady. "What the hell do you call this?" I raged at him drunkenly.

"Olivia, hey." He took a long drag on his cigarette. "Want one?" He held up the pack. "I know I shouldn't but hey, when you can't die, what's the point worrying? Huh?"

"What?" I blinked, then shook my head and hands. "No."

"Want some?" He pointed to the boy, who was naked from the waist up and, although he looked grey in the evening light, was probably turning blue from cold.

"Don't insult me, Rick," I barked. "Are you done? Can I take him off your hands?" It surprised me in myself, but Alan's associates didn't frighten me in the slightest. In any case, Rick was the kind of guy who just didn't suit tearing at people's throats; perhaps it was his chirpy disposition. He probably smoked only because Alan did.

"Hey, I'm done and it's a free country." He raised a hand to the sky. "Well for _us_ it is." He grinned, indicating towards the shivering youth, who couldn't have been more than fifteen.

The boy's heart raced; it pounded in my ears. I found it intoxicating, but frightening. My head swam as I watched the young buck shake with a growing fear. Leaving Rick, I approached, extending my arm before me. The boy flinched significantly. "I won't hurt you," I reassured, and tried again, but he pulled back even further, shrugging away into the shadows. Emblazoned across his right shoulder was a tattoo. I leaned forward to touch it but he shrieked, dived out of my reach and ran off into the distance.

"Don't worry," Rick reassured as he stuck out his strong arm to block my path. "He won't get far."

Try I as might, I couldn't get past. I thumped at Rick's chest, then covered my mouth in horror as I saw two guards set upon the fleeing boy, tearing him to the ground and dragging away his limp frame. Tears rose in my eyes, but I was too cold now to cry. "Where are they taking him?" I asked, trembling with a sort of shock.

"Back to storage with the rest," Rick replied, shrugging, his voice muffled by the cigarette between his lips.

"You treat these people like animals; like they're _dirt_ on the sole of your shoe." The words flowed bitterly from my tongue. There were times I couldn't believe that this was happening to me, and to the humans of this world. "You disgust me," I spat, crossing my arms over my stomach and holding my sides, emotional pain spreading across my abdomen.

"Hey, don't look at me." He raised his hands in protestation. "Anyway, he was one of yours. I was just borrowing. And I know I shouldn't, I'm sorry, and I know you've told me before." He made a face of childish apology. "Yadda, yadda," he whispered under his breath as he pulled a leaf from a tree branch, causing snow to fall on his head.

"Mine?" I coughed my reply. One day I would learn to not ask questions, but that day wasn't today. "One of m-mine?"

"Yeah, you saw the branding on his back... of the rose, right? Sure ya did. He's one of your special stock. My branding is a bull, remember?" He pulled the cigarette from his lips and made horns on his head with his fingers, ash dropping into his hair to join the flecks of snow. "Alan's is, uh... like one of those neat little daggers. Mine's better, though," he yammered. "Hey, mine should have been a scalpel. Damn." He pushed his hand into his pocket and rolled on his heels, his eyes following my gaze across the grounds. "Oh yeah, that kid knows you _pu_-retty well, alright. He knows your routine gig." Rick's voice took on a ridiculously high-pitched tone, "'Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you.'" His voice went back to normal as he chuckled. "You always said you preferred it when they weren't too scared; more tender or something." He stubbed out the cigarette on a sundial. "You can tell as many of them as you like that you've lost your memory, but it won't matter because they'll _never_ be able to forget what you've done to them."

My head dropped with shame as I scraped my fingers through my hair. "How do I redeem myself?"

"Why the hell would you want to do that?" he replied, clapping his hands together. "You're a God in this world. Who would give that up?"

I shook my head in dismay. "Look, you're a doctor; can you at least tell me how I can get my memories back?"

"They'll come."

"That's just... gosh, well that's just grand, Rick," I said sarcastically. "Thanks ever so much for that _priceless_ drop of wisdom."

"Hey, it's not like I can prescribe you anything. It's retrograde amnesia; what do you want? Antibiotics? Besides, you're one of us: you'll heal from pretty much any wound or illness. 'Cept maybe..." He made a show of plunging an invisible stake into his heart, staggering backwards dramatically. I was about to speak, but he started slicing his hand across his throat and mimicking spurts of blood flying through the air. Lastly, he took two fingers and pressed the tips to the side of his head. "Pow," he shouted, startling a bird. I watched it fly away.

"Wow." I blinked with mock astonishment. "Someone call Hollywood; I've discovered Steve Martin's lost love child."

Rick shrugged, then gave me a smile so wide it looked like it had been surgically crafted.

"Stop that." I had to restrain myself from slapping the goof from his silly face.

"Same old Olivia." He shook his head and laughed.

I glared sharply at him.

He held his chin and looked me up and down. "There is _one_ more sickness you don't just heal from."

"If you say love I _will_ hurt you."

"No," Rick snorted. "Mental illness," he said with wide eyes and jazz hands out to his sides.

"Well, golly, thanks. I feel _so_ much better," I responded somewhat shrilly, rubbing at my nose and pressing my eyelids.

He bent down and scooped up a handful of snow. "Wanna play fight?"

For a fraction of a second I was almost elated. A childish glee rose; a hope that there could be more to life. Simple joys. Hands in cold snow. Playfulness. But then I realized what Rick wanted to use as targets and my stomach clenched and rolled.

"I can go get some out of storage. It'd just be like old times." He threw the snowball hard at a stone statue's face, and as the snow smashed, he cheered triumphantly.

I just wanted to curl up and die. "No, Rick."

"Hey, Olivia, are you with Alan or what? Because you and me, I've always thought we'd make a great couple. I've got smarts coming out my ears. And you've got beauty coming out... of your... uh... your." He stared at my breasts. "What am I saying? You're hot. And I could take you to dinner; I know you'd like that."

_And what does dinner involve in your world, Rick?_ I thought grimly. Turning, I walked away slowly.

"Maybe another time then," he called after me. "We've got 'til the end of time, Olivia," he added in a shout.

So this was it: my life in a nutshell. I could only pray for a numbness to it all. I yanked the medicine bottle out of my tight pocket and struggled with the cap. Screaming, I gave up and threw it at a distant wall; the plastic cracked and pills scattered. I slumped to the ground and lay back, regardless of the snow. I wanted to be right back outside the farmhouse with a damaged skull and sweet-smelling hair shading me from the harsh sun. Cold air drifted into my straining lungs. I squeezed my eyes shut as my chest rose with each restrained sob.

I wondered when the old Olivia would take over and wished for it to be soon; the new me just couldn't take the pain.


	5. Chapter 5

Title: Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me, Kill Me. - Part 5

Five years, eight months, one week and five days ago

"Can you feel it?" Alan asked in a hushed voice, barely audible over the clamor of other patrons talking. Outside, the weather was humid and close, but that never stopped Alan wearing a full dress suit, tie and suspenders.

Picking up my glass of red wine, I looked around the dimly lit restaurant. "The pain in my neck? Sure, it smarts like a paper cut, but right now I'm more concerned with the one sitting opposite me." I took a long sip. "Can we get on with this, please? You're barely the kind of man to talk after sex, so I'm not sure why you'd wanna have dinner after our little dissatisfying exchange, huh, Alan?" I ran a finger under the v-shaped seam of my low cut neckline to cool my uncomfortably warm skin.

"I'd almost forgotten how feisty you can be; shame it's accompanied by your crude manner. Still, I stand by my decision to sire you."

"I feel positively honored," I threw back at him sarcastically, searching my purse for my compact and then suddenly realizing that a mirror would be useless to me. "Shit."

"I wasn't referring to your neck," Alan responded, directing the conversation back to his initial question. "Instead to what's inside, in place of your heart. You'll feel it soon; the hunger and yearning." A sinister smile spread across his lips.

"I'm always hungry; it takes a lot to satiate a girl like me," I replied, waving dismissively.

"Oh, well, there are always _plenty_ of candidates to choose from." Alan swept his hand in an arc, guiding my vision around the room.

"I'll stick to normal food, thanks." I picked up the menu and ran my finger down the price column, seeking the most expensive meal. "I have no intention of turning into _you_. Sure, I'll take my serving of eternity, but I'll say no to the side order of blood and guts. I did this for one reason and one reason alone, and it was _not_ to become like you."

"Imagine this, Olivia. A defenseless woman, sweet and nubile. Yours for the taking on this close summer night. Surely you feel the appeal?" He smirked, snapping his fingers at a waiter for a drink refill.

"I'm not into murder. And I can see you're getting off on the idea of it, so _no_, Alan, it does not appeal."

"I will admit," he blinked slowly. "The thought of you draining a woman dry, your mouth at her neck... it amuses me."

"Amuses or arouses?" I raised an eyebrow at him.

"I won't lie to you. Both." He clasped his hands on the table.

"Thought so," I sniffed, crossing my arms over my chest.

"This is who you are now, your raison d'être. And you'd better start liking it or your existence is going to be distinctly uncomfortable."

"Oh, and _you're_ going to do that to me, are you? Make my life a misery because I choose not to become a monster? I can't go from regular human-being to cold-blooded killer just like that." I clicked my fingers.

"It is who you are, Olivia, you will come to realize that. Either you take charge or it will overpower you, the choice is yours." He threw back the rest of his drink and requested the check.

"Uh, hello, we haven't eaten yet."

He just grinned. "I've arranged a little gift for you."

I followed his eyeline towards the restaurant window where a young woman, hair tied up prettily, was checking her watch and playing with a pot of bread sticks. Unable to speak for a moment, I finally forced out: "Some young girl who's been stood up? You want me to take her?" I shook my head with disbelief.

"She's been selected carefully for you; new to town. She won't be missed."

"What if her date arrives?" I watched her look intently out of the window, a distinct look of concentration on her face. I saw her toy with the black pendant that hung about her neck.

"He won't," Alan replied assuredly, sensing my prickling curiosity.

"What makes you so sure? I mean... she's decent-looking. Why would someone just drop her? Or is this your extra sensory perception being called into play?"

"I had my secretary arrange the invitation. There is no date."

Leaning forward over the table, I shot him a disgusted look. "Ya see, Alan, that's what makes me uncomfortable. Passion is one thing, but death by appointment? That's just sick." I jabbed a finger in his direction, but he caught and held my hand tightly.

"All is new, and the past is another country. You are a blank canvas ready to be painted a dark and sensual red. Today is the first day of the rest of your life -"

"Life," I scoffed. Alan reacted by pressing his fingers into my pulse point. Wincing, I attempted to free myself.

Pulling my hand toward him, he turned my palm upward and began firmly tapping out a familiar rhythm on the inside of my wrist. "Do you miss the feeling yet, Ms Spencer? How would you like to know what it's like to steal one? To consume and taste a heartbeat?" He pushed his thumb up the length of my inner forearm, digging in when reaching the bend at my elbow.

I found myself unavoidably, but resentfully, turned on. I squirmed in my seat, jaw set solid as I attempted not to give any sign to the other diners. An electric buzz was spreading over my chest and up my throat, causing my eyelids to flutter shut. I turned to watch the lone woman solemnly close her purse and rise to leave. I felt the waves of her presence as she passed behind me, and shuddered as I heard her steady pulse in my ears.

"There," he cooed softly. "You do feel it, don't you? I knew you would. Welcome to my world, Olivia: your induction into ultimate gratification is about to begin." He released my hand and it dropped, palm down, onto the table, tingling. My nails scored their way across the varnish towards my purse, which I grasped as I stood to leave. "Make your first kill count," Alan urged.

Five days ago

"I _really_, _honestly_, _truly_ am not gonna hurt you." I held my hands up, attempting to mollify the well-toned blond who'd been thrown, kicking and screaming, into my room, then locked in with me. "Honest. See." I smiled toothily. She stopped her sniveling but still observed me warily. Obviously this woman had never met the old me, or she'd be pawing at the door.

"So you're not a...?" she asked timidly, her eyes wide and angular jaw set hard.

"Well, I didn't say that," I replied, scratching at my ear.

She began screaming again, so I slapped my hand over her mouth and paced her back up to the wall. Her eyed darted; breathing restrained against my palm. "Look -" I began "- they've given you to me because they're hoping it will revive some long-forgotten passion. But it's not gonna happen, okay?" I felt her relax and so stepped away.

She edged her way over to the window. "So this passion thing? Were you one of those alternate sexuals or something?" she drawled. "I've been to college; I'm open-minded." She tipped her head to one side.

I rolled my eyes. "I'm thrilled for you," I said sarcastically, as I checked the door only to find it locked from the outside. "Damnit," I cursed under my breath.

"I'm Autumn," she chirruped, one arm hugging her waist, the other waving.

"And what brings you to the Spaulding mansion at two in the morning, Autumn?"

"My boyfriend, Mike, threw me out the car because I didn't like his shirt." She began to pace around the room in her high heels, flowery skirt and tight white jacket.

"Well Mike sounds like a real catch," I responded bitingly, checking the door once again, just to be sure.

"Oh, he is," she said seriously, raising a dark eyebrow.

"Yeah, all the best men leave their girls for dead," I said half-joking, half-berating.

"No, silly, he didn't know I'd get attacked an' brought here."

"True, true, you could have just as easily fallen into the arms of some fairy godmother type who'd zap you safely home in time to make his dinner and rub his precious shoulders." I wondered if it would be possible to hack the door lock open with a nail file sooner than Autumn would cut through my patience.

* * *

She had driven me to distraction and, against my nature, I'd begun to tidy. I folded my clothes and bundled them into drawers and the closet alongside the things from my previous life. It kept my mind off the precious ramblings of my temporary room-mate.

"Ma'am?" she said.

"Yeah?" I replied with a sense of unease.

"So who are you, or what?" she asked, reclining on my bed and playing with the tassels of an overly ostentatious lamp.

"It really doesn't matter," I replied, slapping my hands together to remove imaginary dust. I noticed a crumpled heap on the floor and, upon retrieving it, found it to be Natalia's midnight-blue sweater. A lump formed in my throat. Lost in thought, I failed to notice that Autumn was asking me a question. "Say what?"

"He must care, right? Y'know, if he's trying to get you your groove back."

"Alan?" It was a twisted logic, but then this whole situation was twisted. "I guess." Alan was the only person with any kind of investment in my life and my well-being; it was a sort of caring. Sick, possessive caring, but caring nevertheless. I held the sweater to my chest as a security blanket.

"How did you get here?" she asked.

"I lived here once." I looked around the large bedroom suite. "And came back willingly."

"Why?"

The same old questions needed the same old answers. "Because I had to know who I was." Absently, I pressed the sweater to my lips and inhaled the sweet scent. It smelt like home. My silent heart rose in my chest, as I thought of the humble farmhouse that I never once imagined missing as much as I did in that moment.

"And do you?" Autumn asked, getting up from the bed.

"Do I what?" I sighed.

"_Know_ who you _are_." She spoke like I was trying her patience as much as she was mine.

"_Were_," I corrected, raising a finger. "Truth is, it's finally creeping up on me." I pouted thoughtfully. "Soon I'll get glimpses of everything I've done. There's no escaping it." At least here I was in the company of people who understood, and who I couldn't harm. Keep the tiger in with the tigers. Exception being Autumn, who was a mouse in this den; a really, really annoying mouse in surprisingly expensive shoes.

"Hey, how's about I scream like _crazy_ and we pretend you're taking a bite and they might come take a looksie and I can vamoose?" she purred excitedly.

I shook my head. "As soon as they realize I haven't done any damage, you're at risk... from them. They'll tear you to shreds for their own pleasure," I said sharply.

"Yeah, like you care," she dismissed with a cluck of her tongue.

"Hey. Don't presume anything of me, okay? You don't _know_ me," I argued, then took a deep breath. "There's only one way." I gulped away the nausea. "I'll have to make it more than convincing."

She looked at me perturbed. "That involves pain, right?"

"A whole lot less than would be caused by them, okay?" I took another deep shaky breath and pushed my hair out of my eyes. "Okay..." I stopped, realizing I had a slight problem. I didn't have the drive, or the knowledge, and so felt nervous and virginal. "Um, I don't have anything to draw blood with."

"Well that's a stupid thing to say," she taunted, hands rising to her hips.

I swept my nervous fingers through my hair to tie it back, strands falling about my face. "I don't know _how_ to make it happen," I said, agitated, pressing at my teeth with my thumb like there might be an 'on' switch.

"Just -" she leaned in and spoke in a whisper, like someone revealing that fairies were real "- want it."

I closed my eyes and imagined the roughness, the domination. I imagined tearing into her neck, but it didn't come. I didn't want it. "It's not working." My irritability was rising with every moment that passed.

"Sooner you do what they want, sooner they'll let you go," she said.

"I'm not a prisoner," I said, wanting it to be true as much as I wanted her to disappear.

"Locked in here, aren't ya, sweetheart?" She twirled her finger at the ceiling.

"They let me out... sometimes." I cringed and bit my lip. I thought of the farmhouse, of the open fire and pitch black, starlit nights. I was beginning to hate who I was. I could never go back to my simple home.

"Your mom was a 'ho." Autumn said suddenly.

"What the _hell_ was that?" I asked with disbelief.

"Tryin' to make you angry... I think it helps, maybe, or so I heard. Dunno."

I pressed at my eyes, a mild headache creeping up on me. "This isn't going to work."

"Your ass looks great in that dress."

"_What_ are you doing _now_?" I asked her loudly, my hands at my temple in despair, feeling like my head might implode.

"Different approach is all," she pouted and shrugged while handling a vase, looking like she was trying to find a price tag. "Look," she turned back to me and spoke sternly. "If you don't do this then you'll never know, like you wanted. You'll never know what it's like to be you. And this is the best time to find out, with a willing person who you're gonna save from something worse, right? Right?"

"Okay..." I said quietly, rubbing at my cheek. "Let's do this." I stretched my arms out to the side, shook my hands like I was warming up for a good aerobic workout and wished I'd taken up Rick's offer of lending me the DVD of 'Jane Fonda's Low Impact Bite-N-Tone'.

I took a deep cleansing breath, and then, for some unknown reason, I closed my eyes and pictured Natalia. I don't know why, perhaps partly because right now hers was still the face I knew the best. I became enraptured by my vision. Natalia looked at me searchingly and shivered. _Just my imagination_, I told myself. I commanded her to push her hair behind her shoulders and already my desire was growing; a deep visceral warmth. I opened my eyes to see Autumn attempting a sultry pose. "Just stand up straight," I demanded.

"Be gentle, right? And take just enough to be convincing." She tensed her jaw and squinted at me. "Maybe enough for a little detox, right?" She edged back. "_Right_?"

In that moment, Autumn meant nothing to me. She was a stepping stone I couldn't skip. I grasped her by the back of the head and led her back to the wall; a heat, an eagerness, brewing in my chest like a storm. She shook as I leaned in close; so close I could smell her perfume. "Relax," I whispered, as I watched a ripple work it's way down her neck and shoulder in anticipation of a bite.

"Yes, Olivia," she uttered almost orgasmically, her eyelashes fluttering.

I blinked out of my focused state and stopped immediately. Then, following the suit of my teeth, drew back. "Get the hell out of my room." I waved vigorously towards the door. "I assume you _do_ have a key."

"Oh, come on." Her accent changed slightly, her voice darker and more sultry. She stood more austerely. "What gave me away?"

"My name?" I raised an eyebrow at her, expectantly. "I never told you what it was."

"Ah hell, really?" She snapped her fingers like she'd lost out on a Jeopardy! prize.

'_I'll take Springfield murderesses for $200, Alex_,' echoed in my head as I rolled my eyes.

"Damn."

I stood with my hands on my hips. "Yeah."

"So close, too." She pinched her finger and thumb together before swaggering over to the sofa. "But you kno-o-ow," she sing-songed, "I can still show you how it's done. Come to mama. You can't do any real damage, anyway. I'm like you, y'know, and I can sense your longing."

"The longing is _not_ for _you_." I pointed at her, then realized how she would interpret my words.

"Oh yeah?" she grinned and winked, her nose wrinkling with delight. "Who you got a hankering for these days, Olivia?"

I ignored her. "You tricked me, Autumn."

"The name's Dinah, and we've known each other _years_. 'Course you can't remember that and, well, as for the nip and suck, honey, it's what we do. Don't be afraid or ashamed of it. You were always fantastic at it. Great techniques. The old lure and lunge. The classic fake-out." She nodded, drawing a curve in the air with her hands like she was imagining my name in lights over Broadway. Looking off to one side, clearly reminiscing, a devilish twitch appeared at the corner of her mouth.

I smoothed back my hair. "So I was good at this stuff?"

"One of the best." She clicked her tongue and pointed at me. "I always looked up to you. Not to mention you had Alan wrapped round your little finger." She squinted and held her fist to her lips. "I admired you for that. I think he hates me. Jesus knows why he turned me in the first place; I think he was having an off day." She pressed her lips together.

I brushed away my pride, reminding myself that the abilities to murder and maim were not traits that people should be proud of. "It doesn't matter, and actually, I'm not that person anymore. It's like -" I sighed "- one day you wake up after this hazy mind storm and you're on the ground and there's this farmhouse and things start to get good, and despite not knowing who you are, you make the best of it. Then... then there's this feeling that's all new and you feel valued and wonderful, and maybe it's all wrong but it feels so right." I rubbed at my forehead. "Then you have to say goodbye and at the back of your head, you think: 'It doesn't matter who I was.' But it does, no matter how much you try to believe that it doesn't, it does." I bit my lip. "I wish it didn't."

"You sure you didn't just fall asleep watching The Wizard of Oz?" Dinah mocked, hands on her hips.

"Don't tease."

"Jesus, you really have changed. Where's the fiery girl I knew, huh?"

"I'm just me," I yelped, annoyed.

"Well, _Dorothy_, you're not in Kansas anymore, and round here there's plenty of tin men with empty kettles for chests, so you _might_ wanna go brunch on a bunch of munchkins." She chomped her teeth together.

I shot her an unimpressed look, crossing my arms over my chest. "I can't go back just like that."

"You sure you don't remember anything about the old you?" She tilted her head to one side and spoke calmly. It reminded me of how Natalia talked sometimes.

"So far? Nothing past the age of fourteen or so. Yet, anyway. It's kinda like an employee cull: last in... first out." I snapped my fingers near my ear.

"Oh wow. I'd love to go back... to start anew. To taste that first taste all over again." Dinah became lost in her thoughts. "I wish I could be your second first time. So intense. Such an amazing connection."

"No thanks."

She shrugged and drew out a key from her bra. "Whatever."

"Dinah?"

"Yeah?" she looked at me hopefully.

"This may sound like an odd question but, uh, was I only interested in men before?" I chewed on the inside of my cheek.

"We both had our share of women, Olivia."

"I... oh, you mean... no... sexually; I meant sexually."

"I don't know. You sure as hell never came on to me, and look at me... I'm hot." She laughed as she paced over to me and drew a ticklish line down my cheek. I turned away from her. "You let me know if there's anyone you want; get you back in the swing..."

"There's no-one," I answered, biting at my lip and scratching at the back of my head.

"Oh yeah, Ollie? Really?" she gleamed. "So how come those _beautiful_... _pointy_... pearly-whites of yours have appeared again? Tell me that?" And with that she winked and left.

Two days ago

The siren song was growing louder, constant like a dripping tap or incessant knocking; it kept me awake and with every passing moment I was giving in a little more to the prickle of desire.

Long into the night I tried again to fill the hungry void with drink. I watched as a servant carried the tray over to the table, glasses knocking as his hands visibly shook despite his attempts to avoid my inadvertently predatory gaze. Every day fresh meat brought before me; Alan really knew how to test a girl to the limit.

I refused to give in and promised myself I'd remain strong. Heck, Alan could send up a twenty-strong, sexy party with margaritas, whipped cream and a collection of Hollywood's finest gore films and I'd still be determined not to give in to anything non-consensual, or even, as in Dinah's case, consensual.

As the man bowed his way out of the door, I wondered why humans would work for Alan's kind. My kind. _Keep your enemies closer_, I thought. In every world, someone had to do the dirty work, had to be the underdog, and as long as Alan needed someone to take out the trash for him, that someone would be moderately safe. I spun the cap off the whiskey and sloshed a double carelessly into the tumbler. I tossed a couple of ice shards into my mouth to suck, feeling the sharp edges with my tongue. Picking up the glass for a swig, I stopped before the liquid reached my lips. "What the...?"

Surreptitiously, I glanced behind me and closed the door softly. Inhaling quietly, I slowly re-approached the tray to retrieve the napkin, most of which had previously been covered by the tumbler. A few words of familiar handwriting. It read: Meet me - noon - dining room. I traced the lines with my fingertips.

It could have been a trick, but then what did I have to lose? As always, I had to go. I couldn't not know.


	6. Chapter 6

Title: Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me, Kill Me. - Part 6

Five years, eight months, one week and five days ago 

"Hungry, I've been hungry before," I said out loud to the copper-washed night sky, shaking my head. "I can do this. I can just walk away." But I didn't want to. Feeding desire is what I do. Who I am. Who I'd always been. I had left Alan behind in the restaurant, but presumed he would follow or observe from a window. He was that kind of guy.

Already my incisors had drawn sharp against the sides of my tongue, the tip of which, without instruction, ran along the distinct points of my suddenly-changed teeth. Everything about me was evolving with the new found desire that rose and fell with each vision of blood and power. I shook away the feeling for a second time and my teeth receded, but it didn't last long.

The warm air sizzled on my cool skin as I strode purposefully across the parking lot, towards the woman's lithe figure bathed in the street light's glow. She was fumbling in her purse and completely unaware of my steady approach.

"Hey," I greeted her, wondering why the word had dropped out of my mouth.

"Hey," she replied, looking up for barely a moment.

She wasn't afraid of me and was clearly unperturbed by my presence. Perhaps this was because a woman in high heels, a tightly fitting dress and with diamonds in her hair is usually the one _under_ threat. I felt our symmetry. She was the poorer, alternate version of me: inappropriately short slutty skirt and cheap shoes, badly-applied highlights in her hair. No men begging to sweep her off her feet. "Got a light?" I drew closer.

"No, sorry." She smiled weakly and then, fumbling, dropped her keys.

We both bent down to retrieve them, but I swept them up first and held them aloft as we stood together. "That's fine; I don't smoke," I grinned. She reached out but I snatched my hand back teasingly.

"Please?" she said, as she watched her keys jangling around my index finger.

Locks of loose hair danced invitingly just beneath her jawline. I stared at her hypnotically. "Back up," I commanded strongly with an incline of my head. She did as asked, resulting in a sensation of power throbbing through my body. When her back hit the side of her car, I saw her knees give way a little and she began to shudder. What Alan had failed to inform me was that I _wouldn't_ lose my conscience; worse still, every sense was heightened, pure and unyielding. I felt like an angel possessed.

Empathy: I could feel her fear and I felt disgusted by it, but also enthralled. Perhaps, over time, I would grow used to the feeling. I doubted that Alan felt for his victims; his conscience had no doubt been neatly tucked away in a corner of his mind: safe, sound, and quietly pleading for mercy. Every vice has an unsure beginning. I remembered what Alan had told me. I had no choice. Swallowing my resentment, I pushed on. Needs must when the devil drives, and this woman's flesh was singing to me.

I asked her to remove her necklace. Stopping for a moment, I looked at her steady, open palm, before closing her fingers over the jet black pendant and delicately pushing it back toward her. Stepping forward, I traced my left thumb down her throat, beginning at the base of her chin, and let the keys in my hand draw cool lines over her skin. I felt her shiver and swallow.

I drew my right hand around to the nape of her neck, my body pressed against hers so that she might not facilitate an escape. I leaned into the left of her, running my nose along the area beneath her ear. My breathing remained calm and deep, while hers became strained and erratic. The air that escaped from her throat tickled my skin and I almost shrugged away.

A pang of self-loathing made me urge her to stop panicking. "Please don't," I begged directly into her ear. "I'm sorry. I'll try to be gentle. I... I've never... before... never. You'll be my first. And... that makes you... _special_." I sounded nauseatingly like a horny boy on prom night. _What sort of consolation is that to her when what I'm effectively doing is raping the life from her?_ I asked myself. Nevertheless, I had calmed her and she had leaned to her left to allow me easier access. Her hands moved to my back to cling on, nails digging deeply into my shoulders, sending twitches of pleasurable pain along my spine. Tentatively, I placed a kiss to mark my place of attack. Removing my hand from her hair, I eased her head back.

The fingertips of my right hand lay along her hard-beating pulse point, feeling each beautiful rise. My thumb grazed over her bottom lip and I felt her pout. Here, I surmised, was a woman who had long expected to be taken by a creature such as myself, and she seemed to be thanking me for being so goddamned chivalrous about it. _At least she's not struggling._ I comforted myself pathetically with the thought, before allowing my growing urges to control my actions. Opening my mouth, I slipped my lips over her skin, the expanse unhindered by jewelry or clothes, my teeth clamped into easy flesh. Cheap perfume, expensive wine, my own lipstick and, at last, blood mingled on my tongue. _I'll stop. I'll stop before it's too late._ But it was a promise to myself that I couldn't keep.

She squeaked and bit down on the end of my thumb to control her pain. I consumed her, not ceasing until she fell limp and lifeless in my arms. Whispering a farewell into her ear, I lay her on the floor and ran away to a darkened alley, emotion throbbing in my chest. Once there, I began beating my fists against the brickwork, rough sobs breaking free from my chest. "I've done it," I called into the darkness breathlessly. "Are you happy now? I've drained her and now I'm a common murderer."

"Uncommon," Alan corrected, appearing from the shadows. "I gave you wings and I just knew you could not resist the temptation to fly. This is who you are now, and you _must_ embrace it."

One day ago

Tiredness racked my body, my internal clock completely upside-down. A nervous tension ran through my stomach and it clenched as I began to speak. "I don't know," I whispered, shaking my head, blinded by the bright sky. I rubbed at my forehead to stop me wanting to just step out, grab Natalia and hold on for my life.

She stood at the door to the gardens and was clutching a spare coat to her chest. "You don't know if you're ready?" she said, unclear about my meaning.

This hadn't quite been the reunion I had been expecting. A last minute fear had bedded in and, right now, Natalia was actually the last person who I wanted to see. "I don't know if I should go with you at all." I crossed my arms over my chest and shivered.

"I haven't heard from you," she said curtly. "You said you'd contact me when you got here and -"

"Yeah, sorry about that, I..." I peered behind me, lately paranoid. "I, uh, haven't been able to get to a phone." It was a weak lie, backed up pathetically by a hand gesture of a phone at my ear. I slapped my thigh to distract her. "Hey, well, it's amazing to see you but I don't know if this is a good idea." I looked around behind her. "And how the hell did you get into this place anyway? I think Alan modeled the security on Alcatraz. I'm sure if he could've, he would have gone for the island theme, the whole bit." I smiled weakly.

"Are you happy here?" she asked, a look of utter seriousness on her face. Somehow, I don't know how, she saw right through me.

"Sure, why not?" I replied flatly.

"And again, without the lying?" She raised an eyebrow.

I tented my hands over my nose and closed my eyes, feeling torn. _'I'm a ticking bomb and who knows when I'll go off.'_ However pleased I was to see Natalia, I couldn't help but worry about leaving the house, and I didn't want her to get caught in the fallout. "I should stay." I nodded.

"Have you even been out of the house since you got here? You look as pale as death. Have you been eating properly?" Natalia asked.

"What's with you? I don't contact you in days, weeks even, and you still act like you care about my wellbeing." It pained me to be spiteful to her but it was the only way she might reconsider wanting to be around me.

She sighed, becoming increasingly agitated. I wasn't surprised; I'd have hit me long before now. "Look. I personally don't believe you belong here; you never did," she said calmly. "I don't think you're _this_." She threw her arm out, pointing at the heights of the mansion.

"A leopard can't change its spots." My head sank as I put my hands in my pockets and tapped at the door frame with my boot.

"You can _be_ whatever you want to be," Natalia asserted. "You've come back; you've tried." She waved her hand in front of my face. "Hey, you look me in the eye when you reply, okay, and tell me, do you really believe you belong here? Huh, O-"

"Don't." I stopped her, not wanting her to say my name, the pull too strong when she used it. I pressed my lips together, shrugged and swallowed.

"If you want to leave but think you can't, then that means this is _not_ a good place for you. No one should feel trapped in their own home."

"It's not my home," I admitted. "I... I didn't mean to say that."

"Come with me," she said, making it sound so easy.

"Why do you keep taking chances on me?" I demanded angrily.

Natalia cocked her head and looked at me as if I should already know the answer. Holding her hand out for me to take, she said, "Will you come if I tell you that I _believe_ you can? You have the choice, Olivia."

* * *

Having seen the boy, one of my apparently numerous former conquests, dragged from the gardens almost a week before, I was intensely nervous about leaving the grounds. We were leaving under cover of daylight, of all things. I didn't fear for myself, but I feared for Natalia. My protective instincts had gone into overdrive. I drew myself up broadly, unsure what I'd do if anyone approached. As it happened, I needn't have worried.

"Have you got some kind of jedi mind control over the guards? We haven't been stopped once." It was like we'd been invisible. One of the patrol men even unlocked a gate for us.

"Your husband is not as respected as you might think," Natalia explained. Then, without warning, she pushed me up against a large, heavy-rooted basswood tree and held me there.

I blinked. "Hey. Uh," I coughed. "What's with the forcible action?" I watched her squinting at something far off.

"We have to be careful. Mr Ellis has his office in the gatehouse, just... over... there." Natalia still had her hand firmly on my stomach. She kept her voice hushed. "You, stay 'til I say," she commanded.

My cheeks blushed with the sudden heat generated by my own body. "Okay," I muttered squeakily.

"Get ready to run," she said, staring off into the distance.

"By the way," I said.

"What?" she responded, looking at me like I was a petulant child in her care.

"He's not my husband."

"Who isn't?" she asked, not really paying attention.

"Alan isn't. He lied."

She turned to me slowly. "Not your husband?" She was, utterly bemused, and raised her eyebrows.

"Miss Olivia Spencer," I introduced myself, holding my hand out for her to shake.

Frowning, with her mouth forming an 'O', Natalia stared at me silently like she was waiting for the punchline.

"That's me." I grinned weakly.

"Have your memories returned?" She pressed a little harder and my stomach felt like it had rolled over.

"No, they just told me -"

"Oh, shoot," Natalia said suddenly, peeking back behind the tree.

"Whoa." I felt a wrenching tug as she grabbed my arm and pulled me, and I stumbled along behind her.

* * *

"Okay," Natalia muttered, a little out of breath, stopping by a riverbank on the edge of a field blanketed by thick snow; so much white you'd think you were in heaven. "I think we're clear. You took your sweet time." She tilted her head and ducked down to look up at my bent-over frame, placing a caring hand on my back as I struggled to breathe.

"Hey." I raised my hands and stood up. "I'm older than you. Probably. Well, I feel older than you look." _And technically I'm another five years older than I look,_ I thought. Nothing like a little posthumous non-aging for the soul... or even lack thereof. Natalia was so sweet, fresh-faced and pure. I considered the danger I was putting her in, but my selfish desire to be with her seemed to outweigh everything. I closed my eyes and composed myself before setting off again, following the route of the river. "Come on; no point staying here."

* * *

I shivered, muttering to myself. "We have to get inside somewhere before I turn into a human -" _Could I even refer to myself as human any more?_ "- pop -" I doubted it "- sicle." I stopped dead in my tracks. This was the longest I'd gone without drink or sedatives, and suddenly everything felt bright and frightening. I'd left the safety of the den. I wondered if I could even feel the cold, so pulled off my gloves to feel my hands.

"Olivia?" Natalia had marched on ahead, but ran back to grab my arm.

I couldn't move and almost stopped breathing, then, taking small considered gasps, I considered if I even needed oxygen. "I don't know what to do. I don't know who I am." I felt my chin shudder involuntarily as warm tears cascaded over my cheeks. "I don't know what to do, Natalia," I yelped pathetically, the weight of the last couple weeks' revelations finally hitting home hard again. "I don't know what to do."

"It's okay," she reassured, tears forming in her eyes as a reaction to mine.

I tried to shake free of her grasp but she held on. "It's _not_ okay. You have to understand," I said, angrily.

"No, _you_ have to understand, Olivia," she growled.

I was taken aback and just swallowed my own words in surprise.

"I worked out," she began, "that, for some reason, I need you. So you're gonna have to come with me, okay?"

I could barely form words, my throat was so tight. "It could cost you your _life_." But she wouldn't be able to understand and I couldn't tell her that the primary threat was actually me.

"I know the world you come from. I'm not naïve; I've seen it. And..." she sighed. "And if I mean nothing to you then you're gonna need to say so. Now." A tear slid down her cheek so delicately that I almost didn't notice it.

My throat fluttered nervously. "I guess I want to go home... to the farmhouse."

"Good enough for me." She reached behind me to dust snow from my shoulders. "That's what we'll do."

I couldn't bear such close proximity, so aware of the predator that might rise inside. "Please step back."

"Don't be silly, the snow'll soak in." She continued, wrapping herself around me, her cheek unbearably close to mine. I could smell her beautiful skin.

That now familiar warmth built inside me. The fire within, burning and urging me to get closer. I panicked. "Stay away," I commanded her with an angry, afraid screech. Smacking the flat of my hand to her chest, I forced her back. Searing heat passed through my palm as I stifled a yelp: her cross had cut its way through my flesh. I sank to the floor and grabbed a handful of snow to stem the pain, drawing my knees up to my chin.

With the force of my push, Natalia had fallen onto her back and left in her wake a crisp snow angel. She rose and brought up her hand, swinging her arm out to slap me. Wincing in anticipation, I closed my eyes tightly, but the pain never came. I opened my eyes to find Natalia buckled over in shame, crouching low to the ground. "I can't," she muttered under her breath.

"Please," I begged, rolling onto bended knee and shuffling towards her. "Please do it. I hurt you and you need to pay me back for that." I nodded. "Be angry; I need you to be angry with me." She closed her eyes and let her head drop forward, perhaps in prayer. "Here." I grabbed her hand, pushed it open and held it to my face, leveling up for a clean hit. "You know the score. Eye for an eye. Tooth for a..." I trailed off, unable to keep my thoughts clear. "Do it. Just do it." I closed my eyes but again, no pain; instead I felt a rumble of her fingertips across my lips and then her hands in my hair as she kissed my forehead, killing me with kindness.

"No," she said quietly as she got to her feet and sighed deeply, extending a hand toward me.

"Look. Thank you for getting me out of there, but I have to be rational. I need to go on alone and you... you need to go _away_. They'll be looking for me and I don't want to drag you into that." I let Natalia pull me up to standing with my left hand; the burn mark on my right hand was already fading, but the pain was constant.

"I need you to be strong. I need you to trust me and most of all... I need you to come with me. Now." She glared.

"I can't. This... this won't work."

"No," Natalia said sternly and with furrowed brow. "We've come this far. Now you're going to do this for _me_."

* * *

Finally back at the farmhouse, Natalia was pacing back and forth and wringing her hands. With her coat off, I could now see that she'd lost a little weight and was looking worryingly drawn, but no less radiant. Outside, night was falling and we'd lit a fire. "Now you've done your thing and found what you were looking for..." she began, rubbing at her eye.

"I don't know if I found anything I wanted to find," I felt I needed to add.

She ignored me and continued. "I need you to do something for me."

"Anything. I'd do anything for you." I raised my hands and turned my palms upwards. "Just tell me what it is and I'll do it. I will. I'll do it."

She stopped and turned to me, scratching nervously at her chin. "Not yet... not that."

"Okay..." I said, confused. Natalia sat down on the sofa and stared at the wall, so I sat beside her and did the same. We remained seated in silence for a considerable time before I finally said: "I'm sorry I shoved you."

"I know," she dismissed.

"So... where do we go from here?" I turned to watch her blink slowly; her cheeks had become flushed.

"Would you just hold me?" she asked, but didn't turn to face me.

I bit my lip, remembering my dramatic reaction the last time she'd gotten close. I looked at the cross dangling around her neck, wondering if I should ask her to take it off first. "Gosh, um, why?"

She physically sagged and looked at me with a little uncertainty. "Because you're the one I asked."

"I don't know if -"

She cut off my words by suddenly folding herself around me and nestling her head into my shoulder. I felt her body shudder with each lot of tears that fell. Not angry or grateful sobs, just relief. All those locked up emotions set free. Tentatively, I placed my hands on her back, as she sank against me, and after a while the crying stopped. I ran my hands through her hair and felt like I could have stayed like that forever.

Natalia pulled back a little, the tip of her nose lightly brushing my cheek. I looked directly into her eyes, tracing delicate lines along her jaw with my fingertips. Something inside took charge of me, driving me toward her. Her eyes darted, searching mine for a motive. I remembered the time with Dinah, when I'd envisioned Natalia, vulnerable and willing. I tried to ignore it but the yearning was so strong, the memory so vivid, I could almost taste blood on my tongue. I needed to be closer. I needed a connection.

I grasped her chin in my hand but found my lips weren't aching for her neck; instead my mouth was closely approaching hers. Taking a sudden intake of breath when realizing my intent, she moved her hands against my waist, tugging at my clothes.

It was a second before I realized Natalia was pulling me closer, not pushing me away. The heat in my chest swelled and my desire grew, but with it came the return of my heightened senses and, outside, the distinctive sound of a swiftly drawn up parking brake registered in my ears. Car doors slammed, followed by the quick footsteps of not one, but three people, hurrying toward the house.


	7. Chapter 7

Title: Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me, Kill Me. - Part 7

One day ago

"Oh my _God_. You live on a farm and don't have a _gun_?" I yelled, unable to reel in my panic as I raised my arms in annoyance. "What kind of an American are you?"

"The kind that doesn't shoot people," Natalia explained tersely, throwing a pot of cold water on the fire and frowning at the hiss of smoke and vapor. "And hush, they'll hear you," she scolded, eyes wide with apprehension.

"Alright, alright," I protested. "Who said anything about shooting people, anyway? I just wanna wave it about or something." I stated my case weakly, but honestly.

"Will you just calm down and be quiet?" Flapping her hands in my direction, Natalia slid up to the side of the window and peeked through the shutters.

"No," I grumbled with a pout, fidgeting with my hands like a disgruntled child.

"Shh." Natalia put her hand up to signal for silence as she listened. "They're at the door. Quick, upstairs."

I shrugged. "Whither thou goest I -" She yanked me forward. I was kinda getting used to her doing that.

"And stop with the Bible quotes. I don't need you patronizing me," she snapped.

"I wasn't," I whispered with a note of irritation as we climbed the stairs.

Beckoning me hastily through the doorway, Natalia guided me into her bedroom and locked door behind us.

"Well, this is new," I chuckled through an attack of the jitters.

We sat down side by side on the edge of her bed and Natalia thrust out her hand to clamp it over my mouth, clearly not taking any chances with my often overzealous reactions. I gave her an annoyed sideways glance. We heard a slam and a crack as the front door was kicked almost free of its hinges, followed by a faint female voice commenting on the recently extinguished fire. Natalia's hand began to tremble, so I took hold of it, drew it away from my mouth, and held it by my side.

In our sensitive state, every one of the intruders' movements seemed to permeate through the house and shake us to the core. Natalia's fingers shook in my grasp, so I held on a little tighter. I found myself studying her face. Nervousness showed in her expression, her lips pursed and cheeks twitching. With her free hand she brushed her dark hair out of her eyes. I turned back to the door but continued to look at her intently through the corner of my eye; it was more than a minute before I realized I'd failed to take a breath; not that I needed the air. I inhaled anyway and let my head sink with a sigh.

"Olivia?" Natalia spoke directly into my ear. My eyes closed and I swallowed hard, listening with anticipation. "If Alan couldn't have you for himself, d'you think he would let you go?"

I chill ran through me. I was just about to answer when, downstairs, stumbling footsteps were followed by a smash, and a low voice echoed up the stairway. "Hey," it said. I recognized it as Rick's. "Marco?" he called and then giggled childishly. I heard him receive a slap and then react with pain.

"How old are you? Four?" Dinah's unimpressed tone cut through the silence. "Jesus. Amateurs."

"I should go talk to them," I said, but Natalia wouldn't let me go; her grip was vice-like.

"No. Please. I'm not ready to say goodbye." Getting up, she began looking around the room, pulling out a wad of bills from a drawer and stuffing them into the back of her jeans.

"Well I'm pretty sure they know I'm here. So what the heck do you wanna do?" I looked at her expectantly and shook my head. "Escape out the window using tied up _bed_ sheets?" I questioned, disbelieving.

"_No_, Olivia, because we're not kids sneaking out of a dorm room window." She yanked open the drapes. "We'll just climb down."

They don't make women like Natalia Rivera anymore, that's for sure. But then they don't make them like Olivia Spencer either. I shrugged with agreement. "Okay."

* * *

_How did I get into this situation?_, I considered, watching my fingers turn white as I clung onto a wooden slat, trying to find a foothold on the unsteady, eight foot high heap of chopped wood. "Ahh crap," I uttered, toppling backwards and tumbling uncomfortably down the pile. Hitting the ground with a jarring halt, I reached back to clutch my lower back, which had taken the brunt of the fall.

"You okay?" Natalia winced, then clearly tried to suppress a smirk.

"I see you trying not to laugh," I said to her, twisting the tips of my index fingers in my cheeks mockingly. "Nothing slips by me, missy." Standing up, I dismissed her attempts to aid me by violently flapping my hands in her direction.

Natalia crossed her arms, looking me up and down circumspectly. "Yeah, well, looking at the scuffs on your behind, you didn't let the firewood stack slip by you either, so don't get clever with me, _missy_."

I forgot our precarious situation for a moment and just stood, laughed, then smiled ruefully at her. "I wish I'd known you before," I admitted. "Then maybe -" I sighed, losing myself for a moment, "- just maybe, I wouldn't have ended up the way I did."

Natalia took a breath and began to reply, but didn't get the chance, as suddenly we heard Dinah and Ellis talking inside the house, this time upstairs, and we knew we'd be discovered if we didn't scram. We hightailed it, and, as usual, I let Natalia guide me.

* * *

My dejection must've been almost palpable because, of all the hideouts she could have chosen, her choice was a church. "I can't," I said fearfully, looking up at the large, white, steepled building with trepidation and fear.

"Sure you can," Natalia retaliated, pacing keenly up the stone steps.

"No, you don't understand." I grabbed her by the elbow. "What I found out... I... I'm not a good person and I'm not the kind of person who would be welcome here." Frantic, I began some Lamaze-style breathing.

"The important thing is that this building is a sanctuary. You'll be fine. Trust me. Come in, come in," she said, patting my hand and pulling out a large cast-iron key from her pocket.

I looked at her, perturbed. "You have a key?" I raised an eyebrow with confusion. "Can I start getting some answers from you yet? Please? Because I have a tonne of questions, Natalia. And honestly... a _key_? A key to damn -" we entered "- darned _church_?"

Natalia dipped her fingers in holy water and made the sign of the cross. I scooted around her, and the font, and peered down at my body, twisting to look over my shoulders and check for signs of blisters or boils. I seemed okay. For now.

I gazed up at the large windows, through which poured the evening's beautiful dying light. Natalia attempted to walk me down the aisle, but I almost tripped over my own feet. "Yoiks," I exclaimed with a cough, as I noted the enormous cross hung above the altar. It loomed down on me. _If that falls on me, I am toast... literally._ "Are you expecting us to stay here long?" I asked meekly.

"We have everything we need: there's a kitchen and washing facilities. The store has blankets and provisions for the needy, and I think we pretty much count as needy right now, you know. We should be fine for as long as we need it." She pursed her lips against her knuckle, clearly thinking.

"Great," I said through gritted teeth.

Natalia wandered off to check supplies, so I took myself on a little tour of the place. Passing a statue of Jesus, I put my hands up in a posture of surrender and whispered towards his porcelain ear, "Hey, big guy, truce, right?" I gave him and his lamb a wink and a thumbs up, figuring that'd buy me some time.

Natalia had fired up a wood-burning generator out back, and the heating system was just warming up. In the restroom, I found something I hadn't seen in a while, and it kinda felt like I wasn't seeing it now: a mirror. I didn't even realize it was there until I started running water and noticed the reflection. I swirled the water with my hand and licked my suddenly dry lips. "More than five years without a reflection, huh? How the hell did I cope with that?" I said aloud to myself, shaking my head with disbelief. "I probably had a twenty-four-seven make-up artist on hand," I said, almost pitying my former self, then reconsidering the idea as a valid option.

"You okay, Olivia?" Natalia called through, having returned from the store with food and essentials.

"Uh, yeah. Fine," I called back, to keep her away. "I won't be a minute. Just, uh, freshening up," I said, whilst trying every method to catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror: out of the corner of my eye; by jumping in front of the frame and back out; then a last feeble attempt at just squinting. "Make-up is gonna be a never-ending bitch," I conceded with a shrug. "Ah heck, bone structure makes up for ninety percent of beauty, anyhow." I gently smoothed the skin under my eyes with my fingertips. It was getting harder and harder to make light of my situation, but I'd be damned if I didn't keep trying. "I wonder if communion wine would scald me from the inside out," I considered aloud, tapping at my lips as I mused.

* * *

"Aren't there any offices?" I asked with a shake of my head. "Or a dressing up place -"

"Sacristy," Natalia corrected.

"Yeah, that... or _anything_ back there?" I asked, settling down on a bank of kneeling cushions, which Natalia had arranged on the floor, in a warm corner close to the altar; a little too close for my liking.

"There is, but the roof is leaking in both and the kitchen's too cold. The restroom -"

"No," I exclaimed, then tried to cover up my strong objections. "You... you're right; we're fine here." I patted a cushion heavily and let out a long exhale. "Natalia..."

"Mm?" she replied, busying herself with boxes.

"What if Alan's stooges come by the church?" I asked, biting at my lower lip.

"Trust me, they won't." I watched her pull off her top, to reveal her thin strapped shirt and bare arms.

I looked down shyly and played with the ends of my long sleeves. "Pretty sure of yourself, aren't you? They might have seen you go to the mini-mart."

Natalia sat down near me and began rummaging around in a bag of second-hand clothes, dragging out a badly-knitted button-up sweater about three sizes too large for her, which she pulled on and wrapped around her waist. "They're looking for _you_, Olivia, not me. But you know as well as I do what they are... they'd never come near the church."

"Yeah, you're right." I paused. "Wait a minute." I narrowed my eyes at her. "You _know_?"

She stuttered her reply. "There isn't anyone in this town who _doesn't_ know. Spaulding Enterprises is notorious for -"

"No. Wait. What? I don't understand. Why did you let me go; why didn't you warn me?" I asked, irately. "If you knew what _kind_ Alan's people are?"

She licked her lips nervously. "You had to find out for yourself. I couldn't... I couldn't tell you."

"But didn't you know the danger I was in?" I raised myself up onto my knees.

"Were you in danger?" She looked up at me, a stack of blankets suddenly in her hands, like she'd felt the need to build a barricade between us.

"I..." I shrugged.

She shook her head. "Alan's a business man: he wants to possess you, not destroy you. I imagined that, y'know -" a little shrug appeared at the corner of her mouth "- that you'd go back to your old self. That... that your memories would return. I knew you wouldn't be a whole person, a complete person, until you'd faced it." She hung her head. "I wish you could understand."

"Well I'm still the pretty much empty-headed idiot who left you, so help me, Natalia. Tell me something more. Anything. Because right now I need a little help understanding your motives."

"Okay, okay," she sighed, eyes darting, seeking something to tell me that would abate my anger. "I do want to keep you safe. Don't think I could let someone hurt you. I wouldn't stand by and let _anyone_ be hurt intentionally. I couldn't. You have to believe me. Alan said he was your husband and I stupidly believed him; I thought that was where you belonged." She closed her eyes for a moment. "I was confused. Really, really confused. You don't know how much." She swallowed and shifted her position. "I chose the church because, like you said, I'm one of the last believers. And I feel safe here. I have a key because I had locks fitted to protect the building after I saw it had been broken into so many times. You know what this world is like. I know you do, even without your memories. I always knew I had the option to come here. And I promise you that you're safe here too."

"I don't know if you've noticed but I'm no saint. I'm a -"

"You're not listening," Natalia interrupted abruptly.

"I hear you fine." I snapped my fingers by my ear to demonstrate.

"But you're not _listening_." The more impatient she got with me, the more her throat tightened, the pinker her cheeks got and the darker her eyes became. "I need you to take me seriously." She frowned darkly.

"I am. I am. It just... doesn't show." I shrugged.

Natalia looked up at the rafters and ran her hands through the length of her dark, glossy hair. "Do you know why I came to Springfield?"

This pricked up my ears and I tried to act more like I felt: intrigued. I'd wanted to hear Natalia talk about herself for so long. "No. Please, tell me," I urged.

"I came searching for someone I lost a long time ago."

"Who? A friend, parent or lover... or the father of your child?" I urged for answers.

"It... it doesn't matter right now. Point is, I waited a awful long time to be saved and... and it never happened, so I began looking, but it was a dream, an illusion. I've stopped dreaming now."

I nodded. "So you think I should wise up? Get over my past?"

She looked directly at me but at the same time, right through me. "D'you think you can do that?" she asked, reflectively.

Today

My sleep had been so crammed full of nightmares that I woke after only a few hours. It was two in the morning, I was clad with sweat, and had only just begun to catch my breath. Each time I had closed my eyes, I'd seen Natalia tortured, mutilated and suffering. I rubbed at my face roughly and looked over at her sleeping soundly and sweetly. I didn't want to hurt her; I couldn't even contemplate it awake, but in my dreams it happened and I felt sick to my core because, in those nightmares, I was the one doing those things to her. I had drowned in her blood, suffocated by my uncontrollable gluttony. I shuddered and pushed away my blankets. Stumbling barefoot towards a pew, wearing a man's blue-striped collarless dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to my elbows, hem hanging halfway down my thighs, I sat down and shivered. I pressed at my eyes, an agonizing headache finally dissipating. Taking a deep breath, I sank forwards, clasped my hands together and, pressing the backs of my thumbs to my forehead, closed my eyes and prayed.

I returned from taking a wash to find Natalia was tossing and turning in her sleep again; her covers had been thrown to one side. I crept over, lay down beside her and, gently lifting her head, slipped my arm underneath her shoulders so I could half-cradle her. Smoothing her hair and stroking her cheek, I spoke softly into her ear: "It's okay, just another nightmare," I said soothingly. Remembering the last time I'd found her like this, I added: "And before you say anything... I'm here, and it's never too late. Okay?" I let my lips graze over her temple. She seemed to settle and turned, slinking her arm around my waist and huddling up against my side. Her nose pushed against my neck, nuzzling; nesting in like a little bird.

I was too afraid to go back to sleep, too afraid I would turn into something I couldn't control; that come morning we'd both wake in a pool of blood, none of which would be mine. I thought about the farmhouse, of the security and uncertainty of those silent nights. Natalia was my shelter now and I relied on her for safety. I needed her to feel like I was a person worth knowing; it was all that seemed important. I remembered the look she'd given me before the troublesome trio had burst in. What they had interrupted, I wasn't quite sure. I just knew that I'd wanted it. Badly.

With a sudden and unexpected action, Natalia reached up to grasp my left arm; she tried to pull it around her. A cute perplexed expression spread across her face as she found that my arm wasn't as flexible as a blanket. A sad laugh broke free of my throat.

She bolted awake. "What the...?" she said blearily, still tightly grasping my wrist, intently looking at the long silvery scar on my forearm.

"It's not a piece of art." I waved my fingers and she watched, still half-asleep and confused.

"Where's my necklace?" she murmured.

"It's around your neck, you dolt," I said, almost reaching over to pick up the cross, but thinking twice and deciding against it.

"Oh." Natalia rubbed at her eyes and blinked. "Is it morning already?"

"No. It's still night. I didn't mean to wake you, it's just I had a nightmare... then you had a nightmare and I..."

"Came over to take care of me?"

"Well, yeah," I admitted. "I couldn't just leave you in distress." A vision of Natalia with a blood-soaked neck came back to me in vivid clarity, and a lump rose and bobbed in my throat. I covered my mouth with my hand and moved away from her.

"What was your nightmare about?" she asked me, sitting up and folding back the blankets neatly.

I couldn't tell her outright, and I couldn't lie, not in a house of God and, more importantly, not to her. "A woman... a woman being attacked."

"Have you had dreams like that before?" Natalia interrogated. "Have you?" she asked, that sweet little frowning crease back on her forehead, which I just wanted to ease smooth with my thumb.

"Easy. Easy. That particular one? No. Just tonight."

"Why? What other dreams have you had?" she asked, adamant and curious. "Well?"

"Uh, similar stuff, but also normal dreams. Of... of the house." I bit my lip. I didn't want to talk anymore of blood and nightmares.

Her gaze wandered over my face. She still seemed a little tired, her eyes half-lidded, her look softening. "Of the... house?"

"The farmhouse... and you."

"Me?"

"Yeah, of course. You're a hu -" I took a shaky breath "- huge part of who I am these days. I still don't understand it but..." I was struggling to find the words. Whatever happened, I couldn't sit on this truth for any longer. If anyone needed to know, it was her. "Natalia, I have to tell you. I'm not who you -"

She pressed two fingers against my lips to silence me. "Don't."

I drew back to speak, absolutely insistent. "I've brought you into such an awful situation. And I'm the last person you should _ever_ be with. I can't even tell you of the things they told me I've done." I swallowed, almost unable to keep going. "I can only imagine from what Alan told me what kind of a person I was, but I believe every word. I _have_ that capacity for evil, I know I do; I feel it inside me. And you're the last person in the world I would ever want to see hurt."

She reached out and grasped both my hands tightly, bringing them up to her heart. "I trust you with my life."

I let out a small involuntary chuckle, a side effect of mild hysteria clashing with elation. "You do?"

"I do," she said succinctly.

I blinked in astonishment. "Well you shouldn't," I chastised, turning cold, and pulling out of her grasp. "Because I'm like them. I'm heartless, cold, soulless and wicked."

"Don't say those things about yourself. Don't say those things, because saying them means you believe it, and saying you believe it means you let yourself think you don't have a choice." She looked deeply into my eyes, which were on the verge of tears.

"I don't get a choice over this, Natalia." An admission would be as good as a goodbye, but it had to be done. I took a deep breath. "I'm a -"

She silenced me with her hand again. "I know exactly what you are, Olivia."

I looked at her blankly, assuming she must have it all wrong.

"I've always known. Well... from _nearly_ the first moment I met you." Her mouth creased down at the corners. "At first I was scared. But that changed." Her eyelashes fluttered closed. "But... I believe you don't have to _be_ the way they _say_ you were. And you have to decide whether you can do that or not."

She drew her hand away to allow me to speak. I couldn't believe my ears. "You -" I gulped a breath "- you know?"

"It's one of the reasons I had to let you go back to Alan." She licked her lips and looked off to the side. "It's okay."

I shook my head bitterly. "It's not okay, Natalia. How could it be okay? It's like an illness. It takes over," I said, pounding at my chest with my fist. "I just want to be able to hold you and know that I won't turn and hurt you, but I can't guarantee that. Do you want to know why? Hm? Because I've _killed_ people. No... worse. I've _murderered_ them."

Natalia looked like I'd slapped her; she flinched with every word. "They said that?"

"Let's just say I'm a prime example." I rubbed at my cheek. "Frankly I'm getting to the point where if I start to remember the things I've done, honestly, I'm gonna have to end it all because I can't face that, Natalia. I just can't." I scratched at my forehead distractedly while she looked at me in stunned silence. "And now... this dream... the nightmare." I looked down. I couldn't hold it in any longer. "It was about you. I did that _to you_."

Natalia looked completely taken aback, but somehow it still wasn't frightening her as much as I thought it should, or would. "I..." She closed her eyes. "Dreams aren't reality." She seemed to be reassuring herself, not me.

"Why don't you react normally? Come on. Have a little fear. You should be fearing me right now." I watched her shake her head slowly. "How long will it be? Mm? Before something like that actually happens. I can't handle that thought. I can't... I wouldn't come back from that. I don't want to hurt you. But there's no way back from who I am." I got up and fled to one of the tall windows, but Natalia followed, marching over determinedly, attempting to appear dominant despite wearing a faded t-shirt and capri pants.

She held me by the shoulders. "I can help you atone. I can help make it all go away."

"I know you want me to be as good as you are." It took a considerable effort to get the words out, but I managed it. I shook my head. "But I can't. I can't be that person for you." My voice was cracking and my lungs felt like they were full of water.

"You _were_ that person, Olivia. At the farmhouse, you were the person you truly are. You... you have a good heart."

I laughed at the irony. "A good heart." I nodded, a wry smile still on my face. "I _never_ had one of those. And you can't just replace this empty drum with a ticking watch." I took her hand and placed it over my heart. Tears began to run freely down my cheeks, and then hers. I grasped her face in my hands and used my thumbs to catch as many of the tear drops as I could. "I didn't know then what I know now. But still... not knowing didn't make me a better person. It just -" I paused "- covered it up for a while."

Natalia shook her head, words choked in her throat. "Anyone can do awful things, Olivia. Everyone has that side, which they can be tempted by, haunted by. It's whether you choose it follow it or not that matters." She straightened up and composed herself. Taking my hands, she turned them over and began running her fingertip over the faint indentation that her cross had burnt little more than half a day ago.

"Ya see?" I indicated towards the mark, my fingers splayed and taught. "I can't _be_ here, Natalia. It's not my world." I looked up at a crucifix bolted to the wall. "You can be safe here, but I can't."

Natalia clicked her fingers in front of my face to redirect my gaze to her. "Hey, you, no," she scolded. "It's every bit your world as it is mine and don't you dare say it's not. We are _all_ God's creatures."

"You need to let go, Natalia. Of me, of this. Whatever _this_ is." I pulled my gaze away from hers because, when I looked at her, I didn't make logical choices. Instead, I stared at the window.

"Listen."

"I _am_ listening," I raged with a strained voice, still trying to avoid her look.

"But -" she began.

"No, Natalia. I am what I am. I made a bad choice a long time ago and I have to accept that. You can't change that. No one can. And it doesn't matter how many times you tell me that I'm a good person; it doesn't make it any truer." Emotion swirled in my stomach, made me cry, made me angry. I felt her presence close to me and, when couldn't bear it any longer, I gave in and looked deep into her eyes. She tugged at my elbow but I yanked my arm out of reach. My chin shuddered as I cried. "God wouldn't _want_ the kind of creature that I am," I shrieked.

"But _I_ do!" Natalia shouted back.


	8. Chapter 8

Title: Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me, Kill Me. - Part 8

Today

Natalia's gaze was unwavering. "I want _you_, Olivia," she said, this time more softly.

I scraped my hands through my hair, clenched my jaw, and restrained myself from belting out an instant reply of reciprocation. Instead, under my breath, I blurted: "You can't." I wanted to run, get away, make the tumultuous feelings of anguish and nervous joy stop. Above all, I didn't want to drag her down with me.

"I -"

"You can't," I repeated sternly. "You can not even contemplate this."

"I can," Natalia nodded. "I _have_, I _can_ and I _will_."

I blinked rapidly, unable to take in what I was hearing. "I won't let you. You don't understand who I really am. You don't want _this_." I pointed at myself. "I'd rather be rejected for something I am, than wanted for something I'm not. So you do that. Okay?" I glanced toward the door, considering an escape.

"Hey, don't you dare think about leaving," Natalia scolded. "Because I'll find you; I'll come after you again. You do realize that, don't you?" she said vehemently.

"I don't get you, y'know. You _had_ me, you had me, and you let me _go_. And to Alan Spaulding of all people."

Natalia looked at her hands and shifted uncomfortably on the spot. "I didn't have any choice. I couldn't deny you learning about your past," she exhaled with a shudder. "I had to before... before..." She trailed off, covering her face with her hands. "I just had to."

"So what do you want from me, huh?" I asked, distractedly rubbing my knuckles up and down my breast bone.

"Want?" Natalia steadily moved her gaze up to meet mine. "I just know that... that inside me -" she paused and swallowed, her breathing sure and steady "- is a missing piece that only _you_ can fill."

I tilted my head to one side, not sure what to say, still hurting with uncertainty. I nodded. "I know." My vision blurred with tears. My bottom lip twitched, eager to speak all the words I wasn't quite ready to say. "Because I feel that way too," I said under my breath.

Natalia's clasped hand flew to her chest, and she held it there, like I'd just handed her the most precious gift. A frown and slanted smile appeared on her face.

With a shake of my head, I brought myself back to reality, blowing away the fog of fervor that was taking over my words and actions. "No." I raised a hand between us. "I'm sorry, I _shouldn't_ have said that. It'll just make things worse."

"You don't know how much I've wanted to hear that," she replied, regardless.

"What?" I asked, scratching at my collarbone.

"That I mean something to you," Natalia said with crinkled forehead, looking surprised that I didn't know. "Because I really did need to hear it."

For a brief moment, I looked up to the dominating heights of the church rafters, attempting to hold back more tears. I needed to be strong; I knew that if I held or touched her, I'd fall deeper, and wouldn't be able to walk away. "Natalia," my voice was weak and strained, "I feel honored that I get to be that person for you... but you _know_ it's not right. I am the absolute antithesis of what you need. And h-however drawn to you I am, it's wrong, and not even something I would let you partake in -"

"It's my decision, Olivia. I get to make that choice."

"Let me finish." Natalia nodded and I continued. "You can't dismiss the fact that you're a woman of God, and I can't even go near a _dam_-" I squeezed my eyes shut with frustration "- sorry, darned cross." She stepped forward, but I simply matched the distance with a step back. "I wanna be close to you, want to be wanted by you, but we _can't_." I found myself shouting, angry at the invisible barrier between us, and at Natalia's inability for fight or flight.

Her strength battled my weakness. "I know -" she thrust forward her fist "- what God wants for me. It took a long time, but I _know_," she spoke emphatically, and my usually still heart bounced in my chest. "I haven't always done the right thing, or taken the right path, but sometimes we have to take chances... big, big, _big_ chances." She stepped forward again, caught my wrist and held it level with her necklace. I winced with fear and tried to pull back. "I promise... I won't let anything happen to you," she said, laying my palm over the cross. "You held it before, remember?"

"I don't understand." I was almost hyperventilating.

Natalia smiled sweetly, pitying me. "Lightning bolts don't come when you're not doing anything wrong." She shook her head. "You should realize that by now."

I held the cross between my finger and thumb: no pain, not even a prickle. "So what?" I barked as I dropped it. "So the monster inside is silent for now. Is that why you brought me here? Is that why you're safe here? Because you knew if I changed, there'd be a mountain of crosses at the ready?"

"No," she frowned. "That wasn't it. That wasn't it at all."

"You should be running away, not trying to keep me close."

"But I want you close," she uttered softly, hugging her sides.

I gulped. "I really wish you didn't."

"Why?" Natalia asked simply.

"Because it's wrong." I repeated my earlier sentiment, shaking my head in despair.

"What is?" she asked, perhaps only to see what my answer would be. This time, when she stepped forward, I didn't step back.

"Natalia," I sighed, bending my knees and throwing my head back. "I can't give it a name, because giving it a name makes it real, and I can't _do_ that to you."

She frowned, then made a face of realization. "What we have isn't a sin, Olivia," she said calmly.

"Not yet, it isn't," I replied, to which Natalia raised an eyebrow with surprise. "You _know_ what I mean," I added quickly. "I know you know the Bible back to front. So please don't taunt me like this, making me think I could have something... with you, when I know I can't."

"Here. Maybe this'll help." Reaching behind her head, she unfastened her necklace chain. Leaning in, she placed it around my neck.

I looked down at the metal which, glimmering back at me, reflected the moonlight. "So, what now, I'm a dog with an electric training collar? One wrong move and I get zapped, right?" I asked with a sniff of contempt.

"I don't want to hurt you, Olivia. I'm giving you this to prove t'you that faith can show you the way." She whispered into my ear as she fastened the clasp. "These past weeks, I've asked a lot of questions, and I feel that this isn't wrong. That what we mean to each other isn't bad." Her lips grazed past my cheek and my knees gave way a little. "I've thought about it a _lot_."

"And what _do_ we mean to each other?" I asked. She didn't respond, and instead began running her fingers through my hair. I leaned into the teasing, stimulating touch and my breathing instantly quickened. I raised my hands to her waist, so that I could keep her at a safe distance. "Natalia?"

"Mm?" she tilted her head.

"Why aren't you afraid?" I whispered.

"Of God? God loves us, Olivia. I don't -"

"No. Please understand, if it's not one thing, then it's gonna be... the other," I implored, having every intention of warding her off me, of forcing her away. My mind was full of all the reasons she should leave me before it all went wrong; before I became everything I feared the most. But the weakness was descending, and I could feel the warmth of her body through my fingertips. I glanced at the cross round my neck; it rested against my skin and left no marks, and still no pain.

Natalia's gaze darted to my mouth, then down to my hands, which had dropped lower on her body, then up my eyes and my mouth once more. My lips parted and my chest began heaving with deep, considered breaths. My thumbs drifted under her t-shirt, over bare skin and the peak of her hip bones. I felt how connected we were, by sight, by physical touch and, somehow, by our minds. She gazed at me with a look so open, so inviting and sincere, that I just cracked inside. I shook my head and said with a sigh of complete wonderment: "You are _so_ beautiful."

Her eyelashes fluttered shut momentarily, and I had to bite the side of my bottom lip to stop it from shuddering. There was nothing else to say. The tables had turned. We moved closer and it was all I wanted. Natalia was all I could think about. I forgot about fearing God, about the farmhouse, about Alan and his crew. I got to forget who I was, all over again, and, for one blissful moment, I was reborn for the second time. All I wanted was to feel her hands on my skin, in my hair, on my body. To be as close as two people can be, and if she trusted me enough to do that, then I did too.

We began our approach toward understanding, toward the beginning of the end. An aeon passed, or time stood still, I couldn't tell which and I didn't care because, despite wanting Natalia beyond words, I didn't want this moment to stop. We slowly let our eyelids drop as, finally, our mouths met in a soft and virtuous kiss; so slight as to be almost frictionless. A sob rose in my throat from joy. Then, in a definite motion, Natalia kissed my forehead, then again, very lightly, my mouth, followed by my left cheek and, lastly, my right. A blessing. An acceptance. I leaned my forehead against hers and soaked up the feeling of utter contentment. Raising her hand to my cheek, she stroked away my tears and I kissed her palm. She smiled and her eyes shone.

With a sudden and unexpected zeal, Natalia grasped the back of my neck and pulled me in hard for a delicate yet nudging kiss. Swinging us around, she stopped when her back touched the window ledge. I placed a hand on the glass pane to steady myself. There was no alcohol, no drug, nothing that could cure me like her kisses did. She was like a warm shower, enlivening me, making me feel new. I breathed her in like a cool sea breeze and she set my throat on fire like whiskey.

Her head dropped back, my arm supporting her. Hesitating, I leaned in and kissed her neck, just once and very softly; an apology to my past victims. It should have been a goodbye to my old self, but, deep down, I still believed I was an unsolvable case; that one day I would let Natalia down. I must have looked pensive because she stood straighter and, as I stepped back, she looked at me withdeep concern. "Don't," she almost chided, reaching out to smooth my forehead with her thumb. "Don't think about it. Focus on me. Please. I need you." Pain flickered in the sombre brown of her eyes.

I realized at once how selfish I'd been. The hurt and disappointment in Natalia's life; I could sense it all in that one pleading look. "When did this all happen?" I asked rhetorically. I closed my eyes and felt Natalia rush at me, her hands suddenly on my back, holding on for dear life.

"I'm sorry," she whispered into my ear, as I smoothed her hair along its length and kissed her head.

I didn't know what she was sorry for and frankly I didn't give a damn. I just wanted to feel her closer, so close that I wouldn't be able to tell where I finished and she began. Her hand pushed up the nape of my neck and into my hair. I did the same to her, as she kissed my shoulder, then pulled back so that we could kiss again. Our tongues touched for barely a second causing my stomach to drop and clench, eager sounds sliding from my throat and hers. A wild force seemed to drive her and I let her lead as she tugged on my shirt, and partially unbuttoned it as she went. She walked me back to her makeshift bed of cushions and blankets.

"Are you sure?" I asked her, my eyes wide as we fell softly to our knees.

"I need you, Olivia," Natalia said, her hands roaming firmly up my sides and across my chest. For a second she slid a hand under the fabric of my neckline, causing my ribcage to rise suddenly.

I pouted, my jaw clenched. "I..." I couldn't help but look around me. "We're in a church."

"I know that, silly." She shrugged. "This is a safe place for me, where I can feel most protected."

I stopped her hands in their tracks. "I just want you to be okay with this."

"I'm more than okay," Natalia said sweetly. Her head lolled to one side, her gaze drifting lazily over my face and body. Her eyelashes fluttered, her breathing deepened, and her expression became contemplative. "Are you okay with it?" she asked.

I let my head drop back and closed my eyes. "Absolutely," I cried, then exhaled thoughtfully. "But I'm a little scared."

"I'm scared too, but not of you, not of the place we're in. I want this."

She took me by surprise when I felt her hands rise under the hem of my shirt and slide up my skin, generating blissful tingles. I found myself almost entirely distracted by the sensations, but somehow managed to keep my mind focused. "First... Natalia." I lifted her chin with my fingertips. "Let me... let me make a promise to you."

Natalia looked at me curiously, and I could have sworn I'd broken her heart. "Are you trying to make a vow to me?" she asked.

"I just want you to know that everything I am is yours. I mean... I give to you." I rubbed at the bridge of my nose. "I wish I was different; I wish I could make it all go away, but -" I dipped my head and looked down at my hands "- I don't know how."

Natalia moved to straddle my lap. "Never wish away the past, Olivia." She looked down at me, tidying my hair and kissing my closed eyes. "I've tried that before, so... so many times, and it never works," she sighed. "We have to learn and move on, move on and do the right thing." Kissing me sweetly beneath my ear, she eased my nightshirt up and over my head, tossing it to one side. "Let me have my night with you, please." She observed me, semi-naked and vulnerable. "Because you know this isn't wrong, or sordid; it's honest and pure, and tonight I need you to give me everything you have in your heart."

I raised a hand. "Just... just one more thing." That familiar sensation in my chest was back. That want. That craving. Natalia trailed her fingertips over my shoulders as I spoke with a sudden sternness. "If something happens, and if I look like I've changed, or if I look like I'm not me, then you _step_ away, okay? You promise me. I need you to promise me that."

She eased me onto my back and sealed the deal with a kiss.

* * *

On her journey from my shoulder to my throat, Natalia placed a reverent kiss upon the gold cross which had sunk into the dip between my collar bones. I let my hands tickle their way up her back; she closed her eyes and wriggled, pressing her naked body hard against mine. Kissing her way along my neck to my ear, she left a path of coolness in her wake, teased by her hot, giddy breaths. Her teeth gently grazed my skin and I thought the intensity would kill me. Raising my right knee, my inner thigh slid alongside her outer left and I let my fingertips cover every inch of her bare skin within reach. My hips rose against hers again and again, in a bid for increasing pressure, until suddenly I felt her upper body gracefully arch away from mine, her hands either side of me.

I ran my fingers through Natalia's hair, down her back, along her waist and up the sublime, slight curves of her stomach. Stopping just beneath her ribcage, I began stroking her abdomen gently, reveling in the exquisite smoothness of her skin. As I did, I noticed a faint mark on her side: a pinkish circular scar. There was still so much to learn about her. She began to quiver with want, and reached down to, in turn, grab each of my wrists and place my hands on her shoulders. I let my palms slide down her body excruciatingly slowly, my slim nails dragging across sensitive skin. Natalia tipped her head back and gasped, with a nervous yet grateful shudder.

It's a precious thing, having so much to lose when I thought I'd lost so much already: my humanity; a chance for a normal existence; an opportunity to bear children. All that paled in comparison to the thought of not having Natalia. I wanted to give her everything, give myself completely over to her. And I wanted to believe all her talk of making me a good person. I clutched her against me as part of the desperate need I had for her, the hunger almost unbearable. So terrified that the physical need would turn to blood lust, I was trembling.

Natalia must have felt the waves of my anguish. "I'm _not_ afraid of you," she cooed comfortingly.

I let her dictate her need to me, not with words but by listening to her reactions, feeling the way she moved and understanding what she ached for most. She let out a series of strained and short breaths followed by the most delicious word she could say to me: my name. I liked to watch how her teeth tugged at her bottom lip every time she said it. Rolling onto her back, she pulled me on top of her, our legs tensely intertwined. I guided my arm between our bodies, placing my hand, palm down, under the inconstant pressure of my thigh. Her stomach tensed against my wrist as I began to press and caress, carefully and lovingly.

Nudging at the curve of her jaw with my nose, I nipped at the dip in her cheek and felt the reaction of a smile. Running her finger over my chin, Natalia guided my eye line to hers, then gave me a look of such utter devotion that my chin crumpled, and I began to cry. She brushed away my tears, then, reaching back to tug softly at my hair, she pulled me closer so my mouth would find hers. We kissed tenderly, breathlessly; deep and trembling. The appetite of my mouth was now reflected in the movements of my hand: more eager, confident and rapacious. I doubted if I had ever before made love and meant the true sentiment behind it. I felt truly wanted, desired and, above all, safe in her arms. I only hoped that I made her feel the same way.

Her left hand found its way to my shoulder blade and I felt her fingertips press into the muscles there, driving me on, begging me. With her right arm she pushed between us and beyond my stomach, then driving upwards and further separating my thighs, she mirrored my actions. My voice reduced to a husky rasp. "Oh my Go- Je- Chr-... Natalia." Between sharp nasal breaths, I felt her giggle into my shoulder. I looked down at her, concerned I had spoilt the moment: she had closed her eyes and was smiling serenely, her pink cheeks full, clearly lost in some glorious, vivid daydream. When she opened her eyes, her expression didn't change and I realized that _I_ was her dream.

"I want _you_, Olivia." She echoed her previous statement upon seeing my expression. I had never believed anything more.

I licked my lips, my ragged breath having dried them, as we became a blur of passion, thoroughly swept with headed towards one conclusion, desired not for ourselves, but for each other. I was glowing from the inside out, an incredible heat spreading through my stomach and up through my chest. Despite the place, the situation, and everything that I felt should be so wrong about our union, it all felt so amazingly right. Natalia's cheeks twitched with almost-smiles between juddering breaths, as the last surges of dying tremors pulsed and clenched through our bodies.

I delicately rubbed the tip of my nose against hers and gave her a lasting and trembling kiss. We slept in each other's arms, peacefully, and nightmare free. Or so I thought.

* * *

Having woken alone, and noticing it was still pretty dark outside, I pulled on some clothes. "Natalia," I called out, pouting at her absence. After visiting the washroom, I heard a noise coming from the back of the church, and that's where I found her. A few votive candles had been lit; they cast flickering light over the dark corner. Natalia was there, wide-awake, fully dressed, and kneeling on the floor of the church's lobby, scrubbing at it with a fury. A deep scowl marked her otherwise perfect forehead.

I stood for a moment watching her, tears welling in my eyes, as I realized just how she made me feel, how much I cared for her, and how I would do anything to be with her. I smiled and, buoyed my my thoughts, lit another candle, not just to see Natalia better, but in thanks to the big guy in the sky who had brought us together. For the first time in forever, I felt like I was living. "Hey, hey, hey, what's all this?" I asked.

"It was dirty," she said abruptly, then looked down with an annoying but adorable pout, with which I'd become so familiar.

"From _what_? The mighty congregation that _doesn't_ attend this church every Sunday?" I joked. She glared back at me and I caught a flash of the defensive, guarded woman I'd met at the farmhouse more than a month ago. "Okay." I looked doubtfully at her. "You _do_ know that it's, like, 7am, and you haven't exactly had much sleep." I crossed my arms over my chest and raised an eyebrow coquettishly.

"Don't mock." Her chin shuddered and she brushed her arm across her face to stop it doing so.

"Hey, no." I quickly kneeled down and began rubbing her lower back gently. "It's me, remember. I don't say the right things. I'm an ass. Now stop that." I pushed the brush out of her hand; it sloshed into the water and sank to the bottom.

Natalia's hand batted mine away. "Don't tell me what to do," she coughed with a small sob, as she stared at the bucket with narrowed eyes and a tight jaw.

I looked at her with hurt and confusion. "I don't understand. What's happening here?"

"I don't know," she said softly, shaking her head. "I don't know what I'm doing." She sighed and looked upwards for inspiration. "I thought I had it all figured out. But I just don't know -"

"What's right and wrong?" I tilted my head and prepared myself for her reply.

"Whether I'm truly following God's path." She stared hard at me, her look serious and resolute.

"Isn't that the same thing?" I crawled behind her, wrapped my arms tight around her waist, and rested my chin on her shoulder.

"Ha," Natalia said loudly. "If only things were that simple, Olivia," she exhaled. "Oh, how much I wish they were that simple." She reached over her shoulder to grasp my jaw and, dropping her head back, kissed me. Doing so, she sobbed and shuddered. "It's no good," she uttered quietly. "I don't know if I can do this."

I inched back, my hands detangling from hers, a lump forming in my throat. I managed, in a whisper, to say: "You... can't?"

She hung her head. "I had it all worked out. I knew what I wanted but..."

"But what?" My temper was starting to fray because I was coming apart at the seams.

"The reason this happened, we happened... I never imagined I would feel like this. I thought things would be clearer."

"Do you come with a manual?" Fear made me angry, and sarcastic. "Because you're confusing the heck outta me right now."

She closed her eyes as I drew further away. Suddenly, she swiveled around to face me, grabbing my wrists forcefully. "I've never wanted anyone as much as I want you, but..."

"You said what we have is pure. You told me that... you promised it to me." I tensed my jaw to stop my chin shaking, but the strain showed in my face.

"Oh no, Olivia. I don't mean..." A flicker of a smile passed over her mouth, and then again as she reached up to stroke my hair. "It is pure, and I don't regret a thing about last night. It's just..."

"Please tell me," I begged, reaching up for her face, but she caught my wrists again.

"If I tell you, it will make this all wrong, you'll feel different, and I don't know how to _deal_ with that," Natalia protested.

"All right, but not telling me won't make whatever it is any less true. You have to give me credit, credit that I won't run off and leave you."

"I'm scared," she said under her breath.

"Don't be. I'll be here to hold you, whatever it is, whatever has happened to you in the past that you're trying to work out. I'll be here and I'll hold you." I nodded keenly, my throat still tight with fear and emotion.

She took a breath, stopped, then blurted: "I was your first."

Squinting one eye, I cocked my head and winced. "Natalia... honey, I doubt that; I know I said I wasn't married after all, but Olivia Spencer sounds like she, um, I was kinda loose in the bedroom department." She looked at me perturbed. "But hey, I'm guessing you're my first woman, oh, ah, gee, that sounds awful." My eyes grew wide. "I haven't any proper memories of anything intimate yet though, so I was kinda running on instinct with you. It was wonderful, amazing and... right here, right now and in my heart you're my first. My beautiful first."

She crumpled, looking like I'd punched her in the chest. "No, Olivia, I don't mean... sex. Your first..." she stumbled over the words. Her shoulders sank.

"My first what, Natalia?" My voice became shrill. "C'mon," I cried impatiently, my voice echoing off the walls.

She looked at me like I was forcing her to say the last thing she ever wanted to say. "Please don't get mad." A grimace appeared on her face, but her eyes still showed the clear devotion that she'd shown me through all the time I'd known her. She coughed to clear her throat. "First victim, Olivia. I was your first ever victim."


	9. Chapter 9

Title: Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me, Kill Me. - Part 9

Five years, eight months, one week and five days ago

Breathing a large impatient sigh, I checked my wrist-watch for what seemed like the eightieth time. Reaching up for my necklace to hold my cross, my hand instead found the small pendant that I had put on in its place. I ran my fingertip over the detailing of the rose, but it didn't comfort me like my cross would have.

Earlier that day, I'd received a note from an attractive bell-hop at the local hotel, telling me to meet him at this restaurant. I hadn't been feeling very saintly when dressing for the evening, and my tight-waisted skirt was tugging its way up my thighs. I crossed my legs and shifted awkwardly in my seat. My cross, I felt, could have sent out the wrong signal to him. I am a woman first, religious second. It does not define me, but I am stronger because I choose to follow _it_ and _Him_. The skirt was giving completely the wrong impression: like I am a hussy first and a woman second.

I made further excuses to the clearly unimpressed waitress, and began distractedly breaking a bread stick into funny little pieces. Viewing my reflection in the window, I pushed out my bottom lip grumpily, and realized that I looked as bored as I felt. I longed for change from my purposeless life; no family to take care of, no one to love. The towns and cities were fast becoming overwhelmed by darkness and evil, and it was so much stronger than little me. No homeless to help, no weak to assist. Every value was slowly being stripped from the human race. If you wanted to enter into the sanctity of marriage, you'd be hard pressed to find a priest. It was difficult to feel like a useful person among people who took exactly what they wanted.

I cast my gaze further along the reflection to unabashedly stare at the other patrons. _These are the people like me_, I thought, _the ones I can see faintly in the glass_. They made up barely a quarter of the room. It was almost curfew, and even though the law hadn't been enforced in ten years, everyone knew the risk. You took your chances. It wasn't even that vampires _couldn't_ go out in the daytime; they could, but it wasn't their style. They liked the night. To them, sunlight was like God and the darkness was, well, sexy. That's how I imagined it was, anyway.

_I might die tonight_, thoughts like that often passed through my mind. You couldn't blame anyone but yourself if you failed to be prepare for the worst. Sadly, I was beginning to wish for something more challenging. I wanted to prove my devotion to our race, show my worth as a human being, have something to fight for. I seemed to be passing under the radar of every person who might need saving. Not even the distinctly predatory man in the corner of the room looked like he was interested in me; his time was being better spent arguing with his attractive dinner partner.

Checking my watch for the eighty-first time, I shrugged and grabbed my bag, looping it over my shoulder. I pushed my chair in neatly, scooped the bread crumbs onto a side plate, and dropped a few dollars onto a napkin for the provision of a table upon which to prop my elbows for the evening. I'd worked in the service industry before and really, really didn't want to be the customer the waitress went home to bellyache about. I don't like the idea of anyone thinking badly of me. At all.

* * *

Outside, a warm breeze blissfully tingled my skin and, always careful to take advantage of joy when I felt it, I stood for a moment longer than necessary. With my eyes closed and my arms slightly out to my sides, I soaked up the atmosphere of a rare and beautiful night. Ridding my mind of the man who had stood me up, I smiled, then began fumbling around in the depths of my bag for my car keys, intent on a good night's sleep and a promising early start.

I heard the woman's breathy voice long before I looked up and saw her curvaceous figure. High heels, toned legs, nipped-in waist, followed by a buxom, heaving chest and long, curled hair framing a sharp but classically beautiful face. Penetrating green eyes gleamed in the night, like a cat's. I tried not to let my look linger rudely and dipped my head. About to turn, I realized that she hadn't been one of those I had counted in the reflection of the restaurant. Gulping with fear, I dropped my keys. A smile twitched at the corner of my mouth as she assisted me in finding them, and I reassured myself that I was probably wrong.

But there was no mistaking her intention when she demanded I step back. Her voice was thick, dark and alluring. I was powerless to refuse. The rest of the world slipped away. No one to aid me. No one to stop her. _Whatever happens tonight, it's my path, it's where I'm supposed to go._ My body shook involuntarily, my heartbeat growing louder in my ears. _God's will_, _even in death_.

It began with a simple closing of my hand over my detached necklace, then an almost loving touch of her thumb to my throat. She moved smoothly, purposefully and even more feline than before, curling around me and forcing her chest against mine. So close that my heart beat directly into her chest; my heart knocking at the door to hers, but silence in return. Her hand moved behind me, massaging my neck tenderly, then the back of my head, tangling her fingers in my pinned-up hair. There was no doubt in my mind that this was a form of seduction.

The strange blood lust she had for me was powerful; I'd never encountered anything like it in my lifetime. My body began to react to her touch as if it were intended for arousal, and I resented myself for not being able to control it. My breathing increased its rate rapidly, and I sensed her pull back. She apologized to me and I frowned with confusion. Suddenly, all of my preconceptions of their kind were changed with that one sentiment. She cared about me, but she cared for her _need_ more. "You'll be my first," she uttered. "And... that makes you _special_." Her voice cracked with emotion; I couldn't help but pity her. Tears began to roll down my face, and I turned away so she wouldn't see.

Sick with fear, I drew my hands away from the cold, metal car door and reached around her. The necklace in my hand dropped from my grasp. I ran my fingers through the ends of her soft, silken hair, then clasped onto her strong, tensed shoulders. I would allow her to keep me standing, to support me. Her breath teasing my skin, the scent of her, the shaded vision of the sky; they were all that encapsulated my senses now. But all that disappeared when, after a minute or so, I felt a kiss to my neck. Such an unexpected tenderness, so sweet that I felt a rumble of sorrow work its way up my body.

Gently, but forcefully, she pushed my head back. I suppressed a sob as my life flashed before my eyes: the joy, then the loss of my son, and of an existence devoid of truly passionate embraces. This, my hated first, was to be my loved last. I sensed her mouth drag ticklishly toward my jugular, her tongue tasting my skin. All my muscles tautened in expectation, my hands roving down to her waist, grabbing desperately at the fabric of her dress. I granted her permission to proceed towards our inescapable conclusion by placing a sweet kiss to the soft pad of her thumb, which hovered tantizingly in front of my lips. I let her curl that thumb over my bottom lip, allowing it to graze my teeth and the tip of my tongue. _Is it wrong to want death to last a lifetime?_ I thought.

As her teeth sank in sharply, a high-pitched noise worked its way out of my mouth. I bit down, my front teeth gritting against the black of her painted nail as she pulled at my throat, drawing the life from me. I ebbed, as if carried downstream and under murky waters, as she flowed with my energy. Who knew being taken to the edge of death could be so enlivening? Only in death could I truly appreciate life.

With strong hands at my back and sweet words registering in my ear, she breathed a goodnight. "You were a beautiful first." She placed a languid kiss on my ear: a thank you, I supposed. Within the time it took for me to blink, I was on the ground and she was gone. The stars above me winked as I slipped into unconsciousness. I wondered why it was that I had never felt so desired before. "God's will," I muttered quietly, as blood snaked down my shoulder and pooled wetly underneath me.

Today

Increasingly lost and guilt-ridden, I hugged my body and tucked myself into a cold corner of the church. Olivia had been silent for over an hour now, leaving me alone for the most part. Before she appeared again, I heard one echoing scream and the sound of the restroom mirror being smashed. Having since returned, she paced up and down the newly sunlit aisle and, despite being pensive and angry, still looked as beautiful as the day we had first met, despite her ruffled hair, plain clothes and make-up-less skin. This whole situation was driving me crazy. Why, of all the people in the world, did I fall for the one person who would be hardest to let go?

"You knew me before?" She stopped suddenly, speaking calmly but still unable to look directly at had taken me unawares.

"I wouldn't say _knew_ exactly." I couldn't explain properly, even so many years on, after so many dreams of her, of so many imagined conversations. "But you changed my life."

"You lied to me, Natalia," she snarled, her lip curling. "Lied... to me."

"No, never. I... I just never -"

"Is this my payback? Huh? I hurt you, but you survived and you waited... you waited until... until what?" Her fingertips tapped distractedly at the temples of her confusion-struck face. "Until I fell in love with you?"

My stomach seemed to clench and roll over. _Fell_. The word echoed in my head, rattling around like a ping pong ball. Barely able to believe my ears, my mouth dropped open.

"Natalia," she shouted impatiently at me, her voice echoing around the church walls.

"You fell..." I whispered under my breath, feeling faint. I felt cruel. I'd broken her, taken her to the heights and just let her drop. _I had to tell her before she remembered for herself; that would have hurt her more._ I tried to comfort myself with the thought, but it didn't work. For the first time, I realized how selfish I'd been, and I hated myself for it. So much of what I'd done had been because of my own need, the ache I'd lived with, ready to finish what Olivia had begun. I had needed her to want me as strongly as I had wanted her that warm night in the parking lot. I'd wanted those sensations of seduction but without the pain, without the trauma. I never expected her to fall in love with me. My brain stuttered on that thought. "I'm so sorry," I cried to her. I had wanted her to care for me, to heal my emotional wounds, but love was never in my plan; the plan I believed God wanted me to follow.

"You're sorry?" she exclaimed angrily, then broke down, falling to her knees. "_You're_ sorry?" she repeated incredulously, her face hot and streaming with tears.

I rushed to her and, crouching to her level, took her face in my hands. "Please. Don't forsake me." I wasn't just talking to Olivia, but to God and the church too.

"Me forsake _you_? She shook her head. "Natalia, I tried to _kill_ you. I tried to kill the one person who means the most to me in this world."

"Don't." I shook my head too, frantically wishing to get my point across. "You weren't _you_ back then, I mean you were, but you weren't. Even then, there was something good inside. Really. And you apologized to me, apologized for what you felt you had to do."

Olivia was rendered speechless. Her body shook as she bobbed back and forth and rubbed at her face.

"I'm so sorry," I repeated ad nauseum.

Olivia stopped moving and looked at me with realization. Taking a deep breath, she asked: "Your nightmares?"

I knew exactly what she was asking. "Yes. I... they were about you. But they weren't nightmares, not really. Just, y'know, a recurring dream. You haunted me every night, drawing me back to you, like a bug to the blue light."

Olivia visibly swallowed. "And... my dream, was it...?"

"Don't think about it," I urged.

Olivia's teeth dragged over her bottom lip. "I... it was hard enough just imagining what I feared I _might_ do to you... but _this_?"

"I trust you, Olivia. That isn't what this is about."

"Why the _hell_ -" I saw her buckle a little as the cross around her neck caused her a moment's discomfort. She swallowed and composed herself, "- would you trust me, knowing I'd done that to you?"

"Because you cared about me, and you didn't have to. You chose not to ignore that side of you, chose not to hide from your humanity. The person you are now, I feel..."

"The person I am now is irrelevant. I almost _killed_ you." Olivia visibly cringed, her fists balled up and pressing at her stomach.

"You gave meaning to my life."

"Yeah, right," she scoffed. "Don't say things that you _imagine_ will make this okay, Natalia."

"You cared about me. You resented what you felt you had to do, and all I wanted to do was save you and for you to save me. I wanted to be your savior so badly. I thought you'd been sent to me, so I could guide you away from the darkness. You imagine you were always some great killer of innocence, some magnificent murderess, but I saw you before, when you were an innocent yourself. When you hated yourself for what you did to me."

"That's hooey. I wish it weren't, but they've told me what I used to do. Spaulding and his merry band of idiots. They told me I used to pretend I didn't wanna hurt people. I _literally_ lied to my victim's faces, played their friend, and more than that... I enjoyed it. It was a huge game." Olivia's look was as cold as ice. "I attacked you without heart, end of."

"You don't remember," I retaliated. "You don't remember, so you _can't_ know. I know, because I remember everything about that night in absolute vivid detail. I've never been able to for_get_."

"You can't prove it to me, Natalia. There's _nothing_ you can say that can make this okay."

I took a deep, cleansing breath. "Olivia," I sighed. "So many things. So hard to explain." I scratched at my forehead thoughtfully. "Before you. I hadn't felt tenderness like that, ever, not even from the one man I thought would be the love of my life. I thought maybe God sent you to me to be saved, but I lost you and I hated what happened that night. I really hated what happened. I needed you, but I couldn't find you. I resented how you made me feel, but I desired you more than any other person. It was so confusing. I wanted you in my life, needed answers and closure, but I couldn't find you anywhere, until, finally -" I sucked on my lower lip "- you were just _there_."

"You've hated me for _years_. I've attacked in you in your dreams for _years_," Olivia snapped. "I'm the nightmare you should _never_ have had to endure." She shook her head sorrowfully. "I woke up this morning and I wanted to be the one person who would change your life with love, but instead I find that I changed it with pain and blood and... honestly? I can't handle that." Her bottom lip and chin shuddered. "You were right when you said we can't do this."

I grasped her face, running my fingertips over her proud cheekbones. Leaning in, I kissed her trembling mouth.

She gasped and tore herself away from me. "I screwed up your life," she barked.

"I had no life to screw up. But after -" I couldn't find words that wouldn't make her flinch "- that night, it made me more fearless and somehow my faith became even stronger than before."

She pressed at her eyes and sat back on her heels. More calmly, she looked me at me with deep concern and said: "How did you even contemplate taking me into your home after all that I'd done to you?"

"You were an innocent person; you had no memories and didn't know what you'd done. I couldn't turn you away. After so much time, I'd half-expected for some sort of monster to come back into my life. But instead I got a simple woman. Someone I understood perfectly. A person I wanted in my life, even more than before." I looked at Olivia, her dejected frame kneeling opposite me. She looked so tired; tired of fighting her corner. My heart bounced and dropped simultaneously, and at that moment I knew I adored her. I never expected to fall in love with Olivia. It hurt me so much to see her in distress. I reached out for her, but she wouldn't let me anywhere near. I wanted to tell her about the scar on her arm, about the moment that changed everything for me. She didn't know that, despite our first meeting beginning with fear, it hadn't ended that way. That I'd wanted her ever since I felt her arms under my waist, lifting me, carrying me to safety, all those years ago. "Olivia..." I sighed. "I... there's more." I touched the back of her hand.

She raised her head. "Unless it's something that will make this all untrue, I really don't wanna know."

"You're gonna remember one day anyway," I said.

She shrugged, otherwise motionless and her expression blank. "'Kay."

"That night, after you'd -" I swallowed tensely "- finished, you lay me down -" I watched sorrow flicker across her face "- and you -"

Bang. A knock at the heavy church doors. Olivia looked up, unsurprised. "That'll be Alan."

"What?" I shouted incredulously.

"I called him from that room back there, and asked that he come get me." Olivia rose to her feet and I did the same. "It's time for me to go," she said flatly. "You were right: we can't do this. The sooner I'm gone, the sooner you can have your closure." She pushed her hand through my hair and laid a drawn-out kiss on my forehead. "Thank you for my second chance," she said, lifting my chin so she could look me in the eyes. "Please, try to forget me." Then she walked out of the door before I could even formulate a reply.


	10. Chapter 10

Title: Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me, Kill Me. - Part 10

Five years, eight months, one week and five days ago

I forced my eyes open a little, finding her body lying heavily across mine, her glossy, dark blond hair tickling my shoulder. At first, I thought she was dead or unconscious, but then she moved, and I figured she'd been listening to my heart. Groggily aware as my position began to shift, I felt the pressure of hands sliding along my waist as I was pulled onto the back seat of my own car. Muttering curse words under her breath, she seethed distractedly, and gently lifted my legs into the footwell.

"Stay awake," she said, insistent.

I watched her slam the car door behind her and turn toward the restaurant. "I'm not like you, Spaulding," she shouted, then ducked to retrieve something from the ground. I guessed at car keys, since the next thing I heard was the rumble of the engine, and before long, the steady motion of the car rocked me into a sound sleep.

* * *

Flickering artificial light irritated my vision as I awoke again, tears sparkling in my partly-open eyes. Barely conscious, I grasped desperately at the crisp cotton sheets beneath my hands as the rumble of the gurney's wheels shook my aching body. A hand rested reassuringly on my forehead as we jerked to a sudden stop.

"You!" I heard her shout at the top of her lungs against the background clamor of the emergency room. Dropping my head to the side, I watched her stride briskly away, her dress stained from shoulder to hem with my blood. Using harsh but hushed words, she raged at a young doctor.

He raised his hands in an attempt to pacify her, while looking her up and down with dismay. "Ma'am, we don't keep any on site," he said loudly, his tired eyes wide, but voice calm. "Not in _years_, and our policy states that if a customer wishes to make a purchase, they must go through the _regular_ channels."

"No," she growled, exposing her sharp teeth and flashing an acid-green stare. "This is a hospital for Christ's sake. You've got to be kidding me," she yelled, shaking her head with agitation. Grabbing him by the shirt and forcing him up against the wall, she continued speaking, but now too quietly for me to hear. Finally, she released her grip and dropped him so hard it caused him to wince with pain. He stumbled towards the main desk.

Walking back over to my side, she grabbed a scalpel from a tray of instruments and held it up to the light. I looked up at her looming figure in horror and tried to pull myself away, restricted by my own physical weakness. Her arm arced downwards and the blade swiftly, and effortlessly, sliced across the smooth skin halfway up her left forearm. Blood splattered across my dress, quickly soaking in. "There," she pointed to her arm: "Blood." She glared at the doctor's agape expression. "Hell, I've got plenty to spare. And if I'm the wrong type, then we'll take yours." She aimed the scalpel in the direction of his head.

"Ma'am, we really can't -" he maintained.

"You're gonna give her the blood she needs, _now_," she yelled forcefully.

Today

I looked out of the window, watching the figures of Olivia and Alan become more distant through the faintly occluded glass. I closed my eyes, but it was no good. I couldn't just let her go. Not now, not yet. I pressed my fingertips against my eyelids and took a deep, shaky breath. Making the sign of the cross, I swallowed hard, whispered a prayer and ran out of the open doorway. They didn't hear my approach, so I stopped behind a large monument, and feared what they might say when they saw me.

"What's this nonsense with a church, Olivia?" Alan asked with a chuckle. "Why, when you run off, do I always find you in the strangest of places? Hm?"

"It really doesn't matter anymore, Alan. Just leave it." Olivia protested.

"So." He clapped his hands together. "Are you ready to take flight?" The sound of a match being scored along stone cut the silence, followed by the flare of a flame. "Have you quite finished flaunting with humanity and decided on the high life once more?"

"No, Alan. I'm never going back to who I was and, honestly, I don't think I can take any more of this." Olivia took a long, impatient breath. "And considering you're responsible for my _condition_, I want you to be the one to do this for me. I can't ask..." Her frustrated words became a rising laugh, full of disappointment. "I can't ask anyone else."

"I'm really not sure what you..." he began, uncertainly.

"I'll be plain, Alan. Kill me. I need _you_ to kill _me_, end it all. Dust me, whatever you want. I just don't want to exist anymore. Truth is I can't _be_ like this and I need you to do it soon, before I start to remember all the wicked things I've done. And if you have one ounce of decency, you'll do it."

I felt Alan's shock and it matched my own. I covered my face in my hands, my fingers approaching my ears, but I couldn't not listen.

"Olivia," Alan breathed.

"Come _on_," she persisted. "I know you don't have a sympathetic bone in your body but _surely_ you could take a few minutes out of your day to bump me off. And I'm sure you won't mind bearing the burden of my blood on your hands."

"I've said it before. You're a valuable woman and I'd hate to see you go to waste."

"It's time, Alan. Please, just put me out of my misery. I looked at both sides: living with it and becoming it, and neither are gonna work, okay?" she said bitterly.

I pressed my back against the icy cold headstone and screwed my eyes shut. I felt the cool air on my skin and tried to distract myself with the sounds of birds and rustling leaves in the trees. My chin shuddered as I tried to stop myself from doing anything rash.

"Very well," Alan conceded. "If you'd like to accompany me, we can talk methods for -"

"Olivia," I called, her name almost involuntarily escaping from my throat in a screech. They both turned and looked back as I stepped out to reveal myself, betrayed by my inability to keep my mouth shut.

She shook her head at me, both disappointed and joyful that I had come after her, and was about to speak when Alan chimed in.

"Ms Rivera? What are you doing here?" He frowned and looked utterly bemused.

"Uh, Mr Spaulding." I instinctively bowed my head. Wincing, I looked back over at Olivia, and swallowed so hard it hurt.

She looked back and forth between Alan and me. "Hey, hey, what the hell is happening here? He _never_ met you." She pointed at me then turned her attention back to Alan. "I _never_ spoke to you about her."

"I can explain," I started.

Alan jumped in to reply, adjusting his tie. "Natalia works for me. Don't you? Or at least she did, until she failed to show a number of weeks ago." He narrowed his eyes and looked at me suspiciously. "I thought you were dead, Ms Rivera."

"I bet," I muttered under my breath with a sneer.

"Okay, question one... you worked for him?" Olivia asked, raising a finger.

"Yes," I answered simply. It had all gone wrong. I'd messed everything up and the more she slipped through my fingers, the more hollow I felt.

"What is this?" she asked, disbelieving. "Is that how you got us out of the grounds so easily? Huh? Because you're _working_ for him?"

"Well... I... yes, but -" I struggled for the right words.

"So this was all a trap? Is that how he found me at the farmhouse?" she shouted incredulously. "Did he ask you to lure me into some kind of web that you spun together?" She narrowed her eyes at me and, as I struggled to breathe, she asked again: "Did he?"

"No," I protested loudly. "It was the opposite... I -"

"So what _is_ this Natalia? You let me feel..." She swallowed hard and reconsidered her words. "You knew so much... kept me blind. That hurts." She covered her nose with her hands and pressed hard, eyes shut tight, replacing tears with hot rage. "Have you just been playing mind games with me? Mm? Am I just some stupid pawn to you?"

"No." This time my mind screamed the word, but it barely escaped my throat. I'd hurt her, and that fact cut me like a knife. _This shouldn't be the person I am; I shouldn't be capable of this_. She had every right to hate me, reject me. "I was just a maid. I left and I... I never... not ever... did anything to help Alan. How could I have told you what you are, what you did to me? Telling you would have _broken_ you." I frowned and rubbed at my forehead.

"Well, congratulations. You picked me up and you let me fall... hard. I _am_ broken and nothin' is gonna mend this." She pounded at her chest. "I am dead to this world, and you need to let me go."

"Olivia..." I exhaled. "You don't know how much you mean to me. How important you are. Really, really important."

She looked like she was about to breathe fire. "Whatever, Natalia. What_ever_."

Alan smiled knowingly. "So let me get this straight. You two have been... exactly _what_ to each other?" He pointed back and forth between us.

"Me and Natalia? She's my... was..." Olivia shrugged. "Heck, what does it matter to you, Alan?"

"I ask merely for information. You said yourself, you never mentioned Natalia. She was your best kept secret. Why was that?" He took a long inhale on his cigar.

"I..." Olivia trailed off, her jaw tightly clenched. "Sometimes... talking about things, Alan, spoils them." She looked me in the eyes and held my gaze for a while. "Who cares what I am to her?" she scowled.

"I care." I found myself saying under my breath. "And I know you do too." I could feel tears welling.

"Very interesting." Alan began to pace around a gravestone, blowing smoke in the face of the angel mounted on top. "So what do we have here, then? A classic case of Stockholm Syndrome?" He looked back at us. "But who was the captor?" he laughed.

"Don't get clever, Alan; it doesn't suit you," Olivia scathed.

"I have at one time had my eye on each of you." He tapped ash onto a bunch of flower heads. "But together... I'm not sure that's a package I could resist... one, indeed, that any man could resist. The energies between you are quite intense, and I'd love to insert myself directly between." He made a sliding motion with the flats of his hands.

I gritted my teeth, unwilling to demean myself by getting angry.

Olivia, however, was less cautious. "Trophies, that's what you're all about, Alan," she accused briskly. "But regardless of what kind of monster you turned me into, and what kind of person Natalia is, we both deserve some respect. So... so shut the _fuck_ up." She pressed her chin to her chest and looked down her nose in surprise at the cross that, this time, hadn't hurt her.

"That's cussing, not blasphemy," I explained under my breath with an accompanying shrug. "I don't make the rules," I said with a raised eyebrow. "Doesn't make it right though," I added, mildly scolding.

Olivia shook her head with bemusement and looked back at Alan. "Look, can we just get on with this?"

"No," I exclaimed, jumping forward to hold Alan back, my hand hard against his chest. "Don't you touch her," I said, looking up at him and feeling small in comparison. "She doesn't know what she needs," I whispered. He stared at me for a while and then smiled sinisterly. Perturbed, I ignored him and looked back to Olivia. "You're not thinking this through."

"Natalia, I can't do this." Her hands flapped down to her sides.

"I know, I know how you feel, Olivia, you -" I breathed slowly and tipped my head to one side "- you don't know how much I understand what you're going through. You hate yourself right now, I know that, and you want the pain to go away. I've been there and I have to tell you that... that..." I swallowed, my breathing uneasy.

"What, Natalia?" she snapped, causing a nearby crow to jump with fright and fly off.

"This is like after-dinner theatre," Alan joked.

"Shut up, Alan," we shouted in unison.

I continued. "I understand why you feel like this, because I was going to do the same."

"What? Go to Alan?" she asked.

"No, Olivia. I tried running away, but I came back to find you and _ask_ you to make all the pain and uncertainty go away. I wanted to ask you to finish what you'd started all that time ago. To end my life."

Olivia's hand flew to her mouth. "Is that really what you wanted? What you said you weren't ready for?"

"Yes," I admitted.

"But we made a home together at the farmhouse."

"You lived together at that farmhouse?" Alan interjected unsuccessfully.

Olivia never took her eyes off me and blanked Alan completely. She was looking at me like I was the only other person on this earth. "We made _love_ and you... you never, not once, never said you expected me to..." she said, dejected once again.

Alan's eyes were wide and he stood stock still. "Please say the church was one of the locations for the intertwining of your naked..."

Olivia rushed at him, a fierce expression on her face. She swung out with her fist but, before the collision, she buckled with pain and I ran over to comfort her. "Damn conscience on a chain," she winced, pulling at the cross, looking up at me with tears and pain sparkling in her eyes.

Alan nodded. "Excellent," he smirked. "Natalia has tamed you, I see. Something I never managed with such success."

Rage brewed up inside me and, with all my force, I let my balled-up fist fly towards Alan's jaw until it hit with a sickening crack. I turned back to Olivia who was looking up at me, shocked and amazed. "What?" I said, rubbing my pink knuckles. "He's an ass. I'll do penance later."

Alan clicked his jaw. "Olivia, are we going yet? I'd like to get on, one way or another."

Olivia raised her hand at him. "Can you just be patient for a minute... _please_." She rolled her eyes. "Oh, and by the way, Alan, just to give you a better impression of how messed up a situation this is, Natalia Rivera -" her arm swung through the air to point at me "- your non-abiding servant... was, apparently, my first ever victim."

"No," he exclaimed, looking at me like he was recognizing an old friend. "Well I never. Who'd have thought it? What a coincidence that you should survive to come back and work for me all these years later. After I'd arranged for Olivia to take you that night." He shook his head with a look of genuine wonder.

"Not a coincidence," I explained. "There's no such thing. There are things we seek and there are things God draws us to. I was looking for Olivia when... actually, I'm sorry, did I hear you right?" I turned back to Olivia. "Arranged?" She looked clueless and so I turned back to Alan. "You're talking about back then? All those years ago? Really? I was selected by _you_ for Olivia to just _have_? You just ordered me up like a dessert after your finest cuisine?" I asked, utterly disbelieving.

"You make it sound so..." I half-expected Alan to say 'sordid'; I should have known I'd be disappointed, "... sublime, Ms Rivera."

"Why _me_?" I frowned, a hand at my throat.

"I'd have to ask my secretary," he mused, waving his hand dismissively. "Generally, it would have been a number of factors. Age, attractiveness, number of kin... we select based on -"

"Oh forget it, Alan, I won't be reduced to a statistic." I turned back to Olivia and let my look soften.

"You never let me finish. In the church, you didn't let me say my piece, and you can't threaten to leave my life forever without letting me say it."

"Okay," she replied meekly, rubbing at her sore collarbone. "Just... make it quick, before my life gets even more surreal and my first grade teacher turns up, and tells me she's my mom."

I nodded. "The night, y'know, _the_ night, when you, y'know..."

"Attacked you," Alan said bluntly, motioning for me to speed up.

"This isn't an awards speech," I protested. He rolled his eyes. I continued: "I'd never felt as protected and safe as that, ever. It was like something inside you attacked me, but you were fighting it."

Olivia opened her mouth to speak, so I approached and pressed my fingertips to her lips.

"You have to listen to me, Olivia. You have to understand. You came back for me. You came back to save me. D'you understand?"

"She did; I remember," Alan interrupted. "It was very annoying."

"Shut _up_," we chorused at Alan.

Olivia looked back to me. "Just guilt," she nodded, biting at the inside of her cheek.

"No, no. I don't think so. You have a good heart; you cared about me. You say you faked that attitude with others, but you didn't start that way, not with me." A thought occurred to me. "Why do you think you did that, anyway? When everyone around you enjoyed the fear in their victim's eyes. Why did you choose to make them feel cared for first?"

She licked her lips, unable to look me directly in the eye. "If that's what it even was. I have no idea what I truly became, and whatever happens... your blood is on my hands." She turned her palms upwards and extended them toward me.

"Look." I took hold of her arm, pushed up her sleeve and grazed my fingers over the long, neat scar on her forearm. "You shouldn't have this. It never quite healed because you're _supposed_ to remember what happened." I refused to let go despite her tugging. "You would have given your life for mine that night. I know you would have. One day you'll remember, and then you'll tell me I was right."

Olivia looked at me bemused, then her expression changed, and she started looking sorry for me.

I continued unabated. "I remember it so well: your arm; the sight of your blood. I saw you; you fought for me, you drove me to the hospital and you _fought_ for me. You have to believe me."

"What a shame Olivia didn't get you there in time," Alan added, worrying at a snag in one of his nails, holding it up to the clear morning sky.

"But I did? Didn't I, Natalia?" She looked at me with expectant eyes. "Get you there in time? _Right_?"

"We got there." It was all I could admit as I let go of her arm.

"You're an uncommon woman, Natalia," Alan interrupted again with little regard for what I was took to be my precious last moments with Olivia. "I like that," he added. "A great pity I didn't know a number of weeks ago; it could have been very useful."

"What are you bleating on about, Alan?" Olivia asked, looking like she wanted a second go at swatting him, cross or no cross.

He looked at her with a doubtful pout on his mouth. "You mean to tell me you don't know?"

"Know what?" Olivia asked, hands on her hips.

I stepped back from the pair of them. "Alan... Mr Spaulding. I... please, let me."

"Let Alan speak, Natalia." Olivia ground her heel into the cold, hard ground and glared at us both.

He smiled broadly. "Whilst you kissed and caressed this rare young beauty, drawing her to the peak of pleasure -"

"Alan," Olivia admonished with a growl.

Alan laughed. "Did you _never_... not once, Olivia, ever think to listen for a damned heartbeat?"


	11. Chapter 11

Title: Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me, Kill Me. - Part 11

Five years, eight months, one week and five days ago

Above me, the steel scalpel tilted and glinted ominously. I let my line of restricted vision scan up the wielding arm and watched her through weary eyes. My attacker, now savior, appeared to me like a luminescent angel under bright hospital lights. Rooted in her position, she brazenly threatened the doctor in an effort to save my life.

With weakly spoken words I urged her to stop, preferring to be left dying rather than be the cause of suffering in others. I blinked away hot, welling tears and saw something coiled loosely around her bleeding arm. My eyelashes fluttered, the blurry, indistinct shape making no sense in my head. I frowned and focused, and saw that she had my necklace around her wrist like a bracelet. The dark, rose-shaped pendant swung to and fro like a hypnotist's watch, blood dripping along the edges of its intricate, blackened petals. Drip. Drip. Drip. Like a metronome knocking in time with my flagging heartbeat.

"Wrong type doesn't cover it." The deep voice resonated in my hearing. "If you're responsible for her... _state_, then giving her a transfusion of your blood would _change_ her, do you realize that?"

She looked annoyed, her cheek twitching and neck strained. "Better be yours then, or hers, or his." She scored a clean line through the air, indicating one person then the next.

"Very well," the doctor conceded with considerable irritation in his voice. "Just _please_ put down the instrument, and I'll go see what we have. I can't promise anything."

"Well... take me with you. I don't want you running off," she replied, nerves showing in her voice. Casting me a frown, she dropped the scalpel onto the tray with a clatter. Caressing my cheek and stroking hair away from my forehead, she shook her head sadly. "I'll be back soon," she whispered. I became overshadowed by her once again as she bent over me, and I felt her full, pink lips purse tenderly against the corner of my mouth. "It'll be okay," she breathed.

Quickly slipping out of view, she left and I watched her go. "Too... late," I called out, but my voice was too strained, too weak, and she never looked back.

* * *

I didn't want this. I wasn't afraid to meet my maker, but I didn't want to go like this. I could have been the poetically-slain figure in the parking lot of a nice restaurant, but instead I was another lost soul failed by the hospitals. Just like my son.

I was on the verge of death, peering over into the next life, and my heart was slowing down, time following its declining pace. All around me people seemed to move so fluidly; a blur of bodies passed me by, no one even granting me a second look. Tainted by association, they presumed me trickster and heister of blood. They thought I was like her.

One beat of my heart and an age seemed to pass. I felt like I had all the time in the world and no time at all. She'd opened my eyes and now I couldn't close them; a cruel awakening for someone like me, forced to consider the meaning of my existence, where before I saw only God. My life had been simple, but now a fire burned inside me. If I could have, I would have run after her, struck her, kissed her and cried into her shoulder. _I die and that makes her a murderer_, I thought, full of loathing and resentment of my grim situation. It seemed like a terrible burden to place on someone. My death would taint her and she'd be forever helpless.

A tickle along my wrist forced me to sum up the energy to raise my hand. Double vision swam into one, and I watched a single drip of her blood swim its way down my arm. A sob escaped my throat as a selfishness rose in me. "I don't wanna die," I choked. Blinded by desire and disguising it as serendipity, I took it as a sign. I kissed away her blood with my last effort and lay back.

The light overhead grew larger, swelling until all I could see was white. Sucked into a vacuum in which I couldn't move or breathe, I waited. The bubble burst. I was pulled back with fingers of blackness creeping across my eyes. Sensations of falling, of drifting fast, and a familiar sound echoing in the distance. Da dum, da dum... da. My heart stopped. I gasped, eyes wide, and my chest rose like electricity had been shot through my ribcage. Shaking, I collapsed back onto the gurney and wept.

I should have died and ascended; that was God's plan for me. This wasn't.

* * *

In a weird way, I envied her. Knowing that if I'd fought for my son, like she had fought for me, he might have lived. I had feared her, but also feared _for_ her. I ran out of the hospital, not wanting to be pronounced living-dead, and waited for her to come find me. I needed her to educate me on what I was supposed to do, to hold me and make me feel like all was not lost. To show me how to be strong like her. I cried into my hands like a lonely child, ashamed of everything I had lost through the greed I had felt. Slumped up against a brick wall, I recited a prayer to the skies. Closing my eyes, I added a heavily sincere: "Please show me the way."

Within minutes, the doors to the hospital slid open and a tired old man in a security cap shuffled out. "Sir?" I called hopefully and he turned around. "Sir, I'm looking for someone. Could you help me?" He stared back at me, first with kindness, but then with disdain. He glanced at my short skirt and matted hair. I nervously raised my hand to my ear to shade the sight of dried blood on my neck. But I realized too late that I had a smudge at the corner of my mouth, which I could taste it with the tip of my tongue.

"You're not welcome here," he scowled, pure hatred in his eyes, spitting on the sidewalk by my feet. He slowly walked back into the hospital, muttering curses with pure bile in his voice. To him, I was just another one of the ungodly masses and a common enemy of humanity; a waste of space.

The one person I longed to help me find salvation was nowhere to be seen, and I didn't even know her name.

* * *

An hour was spent hiding in the shadows watching the main exit. I made another attempt at getting back into the hospital, only to be thrown face-first into the road with words of hatred and disgust. I felt ashamed as I watched the scrapes and scuffs on my hands and knees heal perfectly, leaving only a memory of wounds etched in dirt. Crestfallen, I walked around the adjacent lot, but my car was nowhere to be seen. I didn't know where she'd left it, and it had probably been stolen or towed anyhow. I didn't have my bag; that had gone, and so no keys to my apartment, no cell, no money. I had nothing but the clothes I was standing up in, which were tattered, torn and bloody. I felt like a downtrodden heroine in a Harlequin novel, except I wasn't sensing a happy ending.

Peeling off my pinching shoes, I took the long walk back to the restaurant and, upon arriving, found the large puddle of my own blood that had dried to a black sticky mess. It looked like a car had sprung an oil leak: my almost-death reduced to the same level of significance as a faulty gasket. I had the unerring feeling that I was a ghost, come to haunt the place I'd died. But that's how it kind of was. I had passed over; one foot in the real world and the other in limbo. Life without a heartbeat, or more like life living within the space of a single heartbeat, over and over again. Always drawn back to the moment of change, like a second hand on a jammed clock, repeatedly and unsuccessfully trying to tick forward, jerking and twitching the gears inside. I was just a car with the ignition off, rolling down a hill, no idea where I was headed.

* * *

Instinctively, I found myself constantly peering in store windows, wanting to check my face to see how awful I looked, but there was nothing to see except for the flow of traffic, buildings, and a few people behind me. I tried scolding myself for my vanity to keep the urge at bay, but I kept forgetting the fact and would try again, like some never-ending game of Where's Waldo? I examined my hands to reassure myself of my humanity, to remind myself that I am a child of God, with the given gift of uniqueness, and a path which is mine alone to follow.

I wasn't registering in the view of passers-by; they didn't even look at me, let alone come to my aid. I was no longer worthy of the consideration of the human race. I wondered if this was what made vampires the way they are; pushed to be outsiders they became outsiders, deciding they would call themselves superior, rather than what they truly were: weak. _I guess never having to look yourself in the eye means never having to face your demons_. A throbbing ache deepened inside my ribcage, stronger than fear and heavier than disappointment; it was pure, unadulterated guilt. I had to accept my wrongs and make them right. Somehow, some way, I would find the woman and I'd make it all right, help her to atone, save her from herself. And maybe, just maybe, that would balance this whole thing out.

Aimlessly, I walked down each and every random street. First bathed in the warm glow of amber streetlight with the sidewalk hot under my feet then, secondly, to a barely lit end of town with grass between my toes. There stood a lone church, standing bright and white: a true beacon even in the darkness. I looked up at its steeple and licked my lips in nervous anticipation of lightning bolts. Taking what felt like the largest breath I'd ever taken, I asked: "Just one night? Please?" I gazed at the starlit skies with a shrug at the corner of my mouth before hesitantly padding up the steps. The door was open, the lock smashed in; it swung loosely on its hinges and creaked loudly. The darkness inside beckoned; I entered and let it envelop me. I stopped upon feeling smooth, cool tiles beneath my sore, grateful feet.

Closing my eyes I made the sign of the cross. "Thank you," I said aloud, and in the silence the words seemed to echo, returning to me, like the church was thanking me back.

Today

It was clear Olivia hadn't known what I was, that she'd never once thought I might be like her, never suspected it at all. Everything about me must've seemed like a complete misdirection from the truth, but I never hid it, and it was her perception of how I should be, how our kind traditionally behave, that hadn't let her even consider it. I never lost my faith in God, and, from that day to this, I never let a stereotype dictate what or who I should be: an example she had set me that night. Doesn't mean I didn't have trouble along the way, but I got through it by having a _lot_ of talks with God. Step by step, I found ways to reconcile who I was in the world, but in doing so I had placed more and more blame on her shoulders to lighten my own load. The feelings of almighty guilt were back in force.

"You have to listen more, Olivia. I would have imagined you would have learnt _that_ lesson from Dinah," Alan smirked.

A pang of jealousy ran through me. I wanted to know why Olivia had been close to Dinah, what they had meant to each other. The feeling remained because I didn't have my cross to remind me of the sin of envy. "I would have told you," I insisted. I'd wanted to tell Olivia in my own time, and I felt cheated by Alan for outing me before I was ready.

Olivia was staring at me blankly. I imagined she was examining everything we'd ever done together, everything I'd ever said. Her trust in me was gradually ebbing away. Stepping towards me, a torn, woeful expression on her face, she reached out and wistfully stroked the space to the side of my neck, unable to touch my skin. Looking deep into my eyes, she grabbed my sides, pulled me to her and slowly began to bend her knees. As she descended, I trembled and my eyes fluttered shut. Pressure against my chest made me look down. She was listening to my heart, unable to take Alan at his word.

"Satisfied?" Alan asked. "And get up; you know quite well such proximity is unnecessary when listening for a heartbeat. How you've not noticed the absence of Natalia's, until now, is quite beyond me."

"I don't go looking for things that will disappoint me, Alan," Olivia said angrily, releasing me with a slight push, and walking away with her head in her hands. "I don't know. Maybe I knew but didn't want to face it. Sometimes people, naively, want happiness that way. You do know that, don't you?" she said with venom. "Have you ever wanted simple happiness, Alan? Because I know I have and _something_ -" she threw her hands up to the sky and groaned "- doesn't want me to have it." She swayed back and forth, uncomfortable in her own skin, dragging her fingers though her hair to comfort herself.

"Olivia," I whimpered, stepping forward. "You didn't force me; you'd left and I did it myself. Turned myself into this. I resented you, but... it was what I did to myself that I regretted. It was _my_ weakness that was so hard to ask forgiveness for."

She whipped her hand up to stop me, and glared intensely. "You... you don't get to talk to me," she spat cruelly. "Alan, I think it's time we go." She pointed at the car parked down the hill.

"Olivia, no, you can't leave me, not again. I need you," I cried.

"What is wrong with you? You _told_ me we -" she pointed between us "- wouldn't work."

"No. I..."

"Natalia, you need to fight for your life." She pounded her fist against the air. "You're a good person. Sure, you've played a few flat notes in the weird Disney musical melodrama that is your life, but at least you have a life worth_ living_. You can help people; atone for me that way," she said, taking my cheeks in her hands. "_After_ I'm gone. Let go of me, 'cause I'm poison. Period. Now go. Scurry off, be the fifties housewife someone has always wanted, and start a nice soup kitchen." I saw the anger in her sink and the pain began to shine through. "I don't wanna look at you any more," she said coldly, letting go. "I can't." Her voice fell to a whisper. "It _hurts _too much."

My lower lip trembled as they went to leave. "Fine. You go. You leave me here," I said, not meaning it and secretly hoping for some kind of reverse psychology effect. My cheek twitched and I shivered. At the back of my head had always been the desire to find Olivia. To make sense of what happened, because I would always wonder why she took me to the hospital and, above all, why she disappeared. I wanted to know if she'd looked for me like I'd looked for her. Olivia's mind was still an empty dam; I'd waited for the floodgates to open, but she would be long gone before I'd ever find out. A thought crossed my mind. "Wait."

"No Natalia, stop stalling," Olivia snapped and continued walking.

"I have a question for Alan. Please, just one, it's really, really important to me and I'd be so grateful -"

"Stop being so darned polite and just _ask_ him the question. Frankly, I'm getting sick of your nice-nice attitude," she scathed, clearly trying to push me away, testing me, still trying to make me hate her.

I ran forward and caught Alan's sleeve. "Alan, you're the only one who will know."

"Mm?" He looked at me, faintly interested. "Know what?"

"What happened that night. She must have come back to you at some point. She went with the doctor and left me on the gurney. She tried to get help but never returned. I need to know why she didn't come back for me. Please, please tell me," I urged.

"It looks like I do hold a few cards after all", he said smugly.

"Please," I repeated shakily, aware of Olivia kicking at a patch of weeds, impatiently, but clearly listening in.

"I don't know how she came to be there exactly," he pouted, "but we found her some weeks later, an embittered, crushed woman, in the care of Ravenwood Mental Hospital. I dare say the shock treatment changed her outlook a little from the woman you remember."

"Oh great, I _am_ a wacko," Olivia sighed, throwing her hands up. "Well thank you, God," she looked to the sky, "this is quite a number you pulled on me."

"They have a wing for... our kind. I believe for experiments and investigations, presumably with the aim of eliminating us altogether or perhaps just for that little bit of control... or revenge." He looked back at me. "We broke her out of the institution and she came to live at the mansion where she proved to be an invaluable asset... and still could be _if_ she had the mind for it."

"Ravenwood," Olivia exhaled. "I'll send them an ironic check for services rendered, shall I?" she added sardonically, staring wide-eyed and clench-fisted. "Maybe a Christmas Card. 'Hope you all burn in hell, see you there, love and best wishes, Olivia Spencer'." She signed it in the air with an imaginary pen.

The idea that a branch of humans would torture Olivia not to help her, but to live out some kind of malevolence toward a race of people, made my stomach ache. I almost began spouting a pageant-style speech about world peace and living in harmony but I got the feeling no one would appreciate it. "They shouldn't... no one should... I... " I shook my head. I wanted to hold Olivia, to stroke her back, clutch her to my chest and tell her it would all be okay. I fought the desire in myself to regret letting her take me to the hospital, tried to push away the wish that she'd just straight-up sired me that dreadful night.

"C'mon, Alan. Let's go do the deed. I'm fine with drowning, stakes, whatever works. But nothing drawn out or fussy." Olivia stormed off toward his car leaving Alan and me alone.

"Shall I see you back at work tomorrow, Natalia?"

"No, Alan," I said bluntly. "You do know why I stopped working for you, don't you?"

"I surmise that I do. I believe you got wind of my intentions towards you."

I looked off to the side, catching sight of Olivia's disappearing figure, my strength shrinking with the sight. "You could be a good person, Alan. There's time... for everyone."

"Natalia, a vampire cannot live as a human, just as a bird cannot live under water."

"There are always exceptions. I have to believe in that. I won't choose mythology over religion."

He raised an eyebrow at my remark then nodded slowly. "Very well."

Gently Alan took my hand in his. "If you ever wish to return... but not in the capacity of a staff member, you'd be very welcome. At one time I thought I was a match for the bull-headed Ms Spencer, but now I see that it is you. I can offer you the world; you would want for nothing. I think there could be a good business head on those shoulders."

I shook my head and swept my hair out of my eyes. "Here," I beckoned his cheek to my lips and placed a soft kiss there. "Don't give up on kindness, Alan; you have it in you. No one can take it away from you. That which is difficult is _always_ more worth the having."

He pursed his lips. "Old habits die hard, Natalia. Though I might make a good candidate for rehabilitation if you'd be interested." There was a hint of sultriness in his voice that implied he was lying.

I patted his chest. "I don't think I'll be around, but thanks."

"Natalia... I have a question."

"Okay."

"Have you since tasted..." He tapped at his neck.

"Only that night; never again."

"So how do you know that life isn't for you?"

A shrug formed at the corner of my mouth. One thought rose in my mind, above the rest, and it came as a surprise to me, despite feeling like an old friend. "The same way I don't need to be around Olivia to know I love her and that I love her enough... enough to watch her go."

"You... ahh... I see," he muttered.

"Have you ever been in love, Alan?"

He chuckled. "More times than I care to comment."

"Kinda sucks, doesn't it?" I sighed deeply.

"Yes, Natalia, it... as you say... sucks." He pushed his hands into his pockets and looked around, seeking an exit from the conversation.

"I'll let you go. Just promise me, if she truly wants you to end it for her..." I swallowed and brushed a tear away "... if she really does, then please don't use fire." I pouted. "She likes fires, j-just not being _in_ them."

"Very well," he nodded, seeming puzzled.

I looked back up at the church. "Okay. Now I've got some apologizing to do." Glancing down the hill, I saw Olivia now sitting in the car, some distance away. "You'd better not keep her waiting, Alan." With a nod he left. I numbly watched the car drive away, weaving away from the graveyard. She never looked back. "Goodbye, Olivia Spencer."

* * *

I had blamed Olivia too long for the sin I'd committed; the burden was mine and I was finally ready to face that. Her downfall came from weakness and mine from greed. Just because I'd resisted the base desires that came afterwards didn't make me any less of a sinner. I'd violated God's gift of life by siring myself with her blood, and no one, especially not Olivia, should pay the price on my behalf.

I sidled up to the front pew; the one I'd gone and sat in every day since Olivia had turned up at the farmhouse. I never told her I wasn't employed anymore. In fact I didn't want to lie, so I didn't tell her much of anything about myself. Instead I just came to the church to try to sort out my feelings and argue with myself over how to treat her. Each night I'd left and gone home to her, to be greeted by her welcoming gestures and engaging talk. I kept waiting but her memories came back so slowly and after a while I found I didn't want her to remember.

One night, way back, when we'd had a little too much wine, I almost told her everything... but I didn't, and then, as she slept on the sofa, I covered her with blankets and almost kissed her. It frightened me because I hadn't expected to want her that way; to want her not just in my life, but in my bed as well. I'd desired the idea of the strong woman who killed me and saved me that night; I'd hated the person who didn't come back for me; and now I loved the woman who built a simple home with me. I'd let her go with Alan and again I found myself counting the hours, then days. But, yet again, she didn't come back for me like she said she would, and I didn't know which Olivia Spencer I'd be faced with if I went to fetch her. Until I did. But now I'd lost her again; perhaps that was my punishment.

"Father, thank you for bringing Olivia back into my life. I learned valuable lessons about blame and love. I'm _so_ sorry I screwed it all up. I've hurt her and her journey to you will be so much harder. Please look out for her; she's not as strong as she looks." I exhaled slowly. "A part of me died long ago but what's left I sacrifice to you now, if you'll have me." I bit the inside of my cheek, a hollow, gnawing feeling deep in my stomach and tears rising in my eyes. I stared up at the cross, my knuckles turning white from clasping my hands so tight. "Grant me the permission to make this right. I don't know how but I've got to do it... somehow. I am so sorry for forsaking the gift of life I've been given, for taking more when it was never mine to take, and for dreaming of my assisted death; I could never have done that to Olivia; I couldn't have asked her to end my life because she really _isn't_ soulless and it would have broken her... more. You know that, right?" I took a deep breath and blinked in the light from the bright windows. "Please, God, guide me to the suffering that will help me atone. I'll do anything." I could feel Olivia slipping away, feel her distress and anguish, and sense that I was about to lose the love of my life. "Any pointers, God? Because... y'know, this... this is really hard enough as it is... and... I need some help here."

I had the overwhelming desire to go to the farmhouse to say goodbye to all the hurt and pain. To move on. "One last thing." I pressed my lips together tightly then began. "I apologize for not having faith in her, for not believing that she would have spared me the second time like she did the first. This whole mess was entirely my fault and really I should never have followed her that day." The statue of Jesus stared back at me, a blank, gracious smile on his painted lips. "Y'know... the day of the fire," I said with a small shrug.


	12. Chapter 12

Title: Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me, Kill Me. - Part 12

Forty-five days ago

As I was about to knock on the partially open door, I looked up momentarily from the mail I was sorting by hand, and did a double take. After so long waiting, so long wondering, she was just _there_. My nemesis, attacker, rescuer and single object of my five-year long hatred and desire. The woman who'd left me at the hospital after a good intention, who'd never come to get me, and thereafter shadowed me in my dreams. No end of praying had deleted her from my mind, no distance; she was always a permanent fixture in my memories.

I'd tried returning to Chicago, a place I had once left to calm the pain caused by the loss of my son, but it was no good. There was only one way to cure this cat's curiosity, and that was to come face to face with her again. After returning to Springfield, I'd found the town overtaken by the family name I'd heard her shout into the night: Spaulding. I'd easily got a job working for Alan, his household having a high turnover of staff. I'd patiently waited. Months passed. Still she failed to show and slowly I began to give up hope.

Until this day, when I caught sight of her and my heart made a break for my throat. Dressed in a skirted dress suit, she was sitting leisurely on Alan's couch, her legs propped on his pristine coffee table, nonchalantly flipping through a magazine. She looked so different. Her hair was much darker, as were her expressions. I had always assumed I'd be able to sense her presence, I hadn't, and therefore she'd caught me by absolute surprise. I'd stepped back and pulled myself into the corridor: up against the wall, out of sight, but not out of hearing range.

"Now that you've returned from your trip -" I heard Alan begin.

"It was hardly a trip, Alan; you had me shipped to Venezuela like an _animal_," she said scathingly.

I found myself physically trembling at the sound of her voice.

"Business is business," Alan continued.

"Yeah, and business _class_ shouldn't feel like _economy_. You should have given me the jet."

"Now that you've returned from your trip," he repeated, glossing over her remarks, "I need you to get friendly with one of the staff."

"Damn it, Alan, can't you take her yourself? I'm not your lackey." A pause, then a rising laugh. "Course I'm assuming it _is_ a she. Have your tastes changed? Care for a bite of butler?"

"Don't get smart," he seethed.

"Wouldn't dream of it," she replied playfully.

I closed my eyes, imagining her face as I recalled it: framed by glossy, gold-touched hair; curls falling over her smooth shoulders. Glittering eyes, looking down at me intently, tugging at my soul, as I slipped into unconsciousness.

"I find myself lonely -" I heard Alan light a match and sit down, "- and swollen-headed women like you give me no pleasure. I wish for a simple woman, innocent, beautiful... pure."

"Tall order in this town. Though I _do_ have the number for Ravenwood Asylum. Plenty of nice, quiet women there. Sure they might mumble a little, and claw at the walls, but hey, whatever turns you on for eternity and beyond. Hell, I think they've got a sale on: buy one now and they'll throw in a complimentary straitjacket on delivery," she joked, an edge of bitterness in her voice.

He sighed and as he spoke, his voice lowered to a growl. "I already told you, you don't have to find her... I've filled that order already. She works here. I don't want her catching onto our plan, so you must not let her know that you have any association with me. You befriend her, you take her, you change her, and then I will woo her."

"Great, another in a long line. Have you even met this... soon to be 'Bride of Spaulding'? Y'know... talked?"

"I have seen her," he mumbled.

"Is that all? I'm guessing she won the pretty vote, then. How do you know she's all those things you desire, mm? She could turn out to be a bitch... or worse: _boring_."

"I understand she is religious," he muttered, standing a little close to the doorway for my liking.

"Oh, right, now I get it. From saint to sinner, just like that," she laughed, snapping her fingers. "I can see how that would appeal to your sick sense of humor. Why not go the whole nine yards, Alan? Get a nun. Nuns can be attractive too... even in Springfield."

"I have chosen _her_."

"Well, she's never going to get friendly with me. Most of the staff just go all dumb and _cowery_ when I'm around. As soon as she knows who I am, she'll be the same."

"She joined our employ while you were away and will have no idea who you are. I own the land on which sits an disused farmhouse."

"A _farm_ farm? Or, y'know, one of _our_ farms?" she asked.

"No, no... a cows... ducks... hay sort of place, so you'd better change your clothes into something a little more appropriate."

"Smock and straw. Gotcha." She clicked her tongue and laughed.

Alan was silent, presumably giving her an irritated stare.

"How did you come to have this little piece of Americana, anyhow?"

"We've a complex planned for the area but, before it is to be demolished, you will use it. I'm having it furnished today; they'll take a proportion of your clothes. You'll be quite comfortable. It will provide a humble yet welcoming environment into which to invite her. I have instructed one of the staff to inform her that a new woman in town could do with a friendly ear. No doubt she'll visit you soon enough."

"And why would I go through with this absurdly elaborate plan for you, Alan?"

"Because it's _who_ you _are_."

"More like... because I have _nothing_ better to do. Come on then, which one of your hundred strong staff do you want; what's her name?"

_'What's your name?' _I asked her in my mind, still clinging to the wall, clutching the mail to my chest. _'Say her name for me, Alan,'_' I silently begged, hating that I didn't know it because sometimes all I want to do is scream it. Lost in thought, I didn't begin to listen until she spoke again.

"Natalia?" she said softly before a long exhale.

A shiver ran down my spine and I clamped my hands to my mouth. The letters I had been holding cascaded from my hand, scattering across the carpet. A shudder of pleasurable pain coursed through me. My name. She had said my name. I'd wanted that one hundred times more than I'd wanted to hear hers.

Disappointment ran cold in my stomach as I realized that their whole conversation had been about me. I was the one she was going to come after, to be taken for Alan's eternal bride. My long journey to find her was going to end with her coming to capture me for another. I felt sick and dizzy, nauseated by my long held dreams of reunion and resolution being crushed. It seemed that she would have me pushed further into oblivion.

Closing my eyes, I composed myself, and then ran back to the servant quarters, fleeing into my room and throwing shut the door behind me.

* * *

Knowing that Alan wanted me for a lover, and despite how strangely delicate his approach seemed, I quickly packed up all my belongings, not stopping to change out of my uniform. From under my mattress, I pulled out all the cash I'd scrimped and saved, and pushed the bills deep into my coat pockets. From my bedside, I picked up a photo of myself with my son, kissing the picture before zipping it safely away. My possessions didn't amount to much, and everything I owned filled one small pathetic suitcase, which I dragged along behind me as I said my goodbyes. One of the kitchen staff added to my load three dusty, ancient wine bottles, which Alan had rejected, so that I might sell them should I run out of money.

All the staff understood the risks of working for, or with, Alan's kind. My kind. I don't think the other workers suspected that I too was a 'creature of the night', or whatever silly term was floating around at the time. Perhaps because I had treated them with the due respect I felt they deserved. Other than that, I'd kept myself to myself, hiding away and preparing for the this day when she and I would be reunited. My now ex-colleagues kindly ushered me through the gates and security, and into a field beyond the grounds. Striding hard and fast towards the far stretching horizon, across slippery, frosted ground, my thoughts fell to the aim of my escape. The house fading in the distance behind me, I stopped and finally sank to my knees.

I'd based my life on waiting for my mysterious woman to come back and, now she had, I didn't know what to do about it. Years on and she'd turned so cold. I pulled at the cross around my neck. Feeling purposeless, something inside me told me I should still have that reunion, because eternity is a long time to live with so many unanswered questions. I had one thing to go on: the house where she was gonna set up this fake existence. The mousetrap into which I had to be prepared to walk.

* * *

People get very wary when you ask about Spaulding Enterprises. They get all cagey and concerned and make weird faces. It took a while before anyone would tell me where they had chosen for a new complex, but I found it eventually. A beautiful part of Springfield with fields and trees and an awe-inspiring view across town. As I approached I felt increasingly drawn to the place, as if it were calling me to protect it. I walked cautiously up the driveway to the moderately-sized and unloved farmhouse.

Stopping in my tracks, I noticed smoke rising from the chimney. "She's already here." My breathing rate increased as I dropped my suitcase and ran, unthinking, toward the window. I was right. I had found her. I watched her from behind the protection of the glass, her expression a scowl, angrily mouthing inaudible words. Stepping back and away, I sat down on the decking and composed myself, adrenaline rushing. I licked my lips and rubbed at my temples. I had no idea how to approach her, especially knowing that she'd been sent to lure me into Alan's grasp, that she would no doubt attempt to befriend me and then turn on me. I could only hope she would recognise me from that night years ago, that some of her caring character remained.

I looked back and up to see flames dancing at the windows. I blinked and double-checked in case my mind was playing games with me. It wasn't. Instinctively, I ran back for my suitcase and pulled out my cellphone to call the fire department. I looked at the house, unsure what to do as I began to dial. She was still inside and I couldn't just leave her there. _Or could I_? The thought flickered across my mind for barely a second, but it was heinous enough for my cross to jolt a pulse of pain across my skin, and I dropped the phone. "Stupid," I said to myself, ashamed for even contemplating anything so low. I made the call.

Unsteadily, I approached, wedged open the outer door and reached for the handle of the inner one. I wrenched my hand away as the hot metal stung my palm. "Double stupid," I cursed myself. I heard her scream for help with genuine fear in her voice, and my heart seemed to drop suddenly. Taking a deep breath for courage, I ran away from the house to find something that would suffice as a battering ram. Above the noise of the fire I heard yelling; she was trying with desperation to get out. I swiftly returned to the front entrance and, thrusting a piece of steel into its frame, attempted to prise it open. The door gave and I heard a bang, like something exploding, or a car back-firing.

My makeshift lever dropped. Dizzily, I stumbled to one side, placing my hands flat against the wall of the house, using it for support as I made my way along the porch. Dropping onto my knees, I slumped over, buckling with pain. Blood was bubbling freely between my fingers. I looked down to see a clean wound. From my vantage point, huddled against the house, I watched her escape as she ran off without even acknowledging I was there. Aware that the blood loss wouldn't kill me didn't make it any less painful. I stared at her disappearing figure in wonderment and bemusement, then I saw the gun in her hand and it all made sense.

She had shot me, and with little regard for who I was, or that I was trying to help her. _What, then, should I expect when she returned to take me for Alan?  
_

* * *

"Is this your house, ma'am?" one of the fire fighters said to me, rubbing his stubbly chin, eyes bloodshot from the smoke.

"Nope," I sighed. "Wish it was. I'd always dreamed of a sweet little home to call my own," I added, grazing my hand over one of the window ledges wistfully. "We've got kind of a common thing going on, this house and me." I glanced at the glass and, seeing only the reflection of the man at my side, bit my lip, took him by the elbow and moved him away.

He scratched at his head and shrugged, casting me a look that implied he thought I was crazy. "Well... it's safe to go back in. We've checked it out; the stairs are safe and the windows survived okay."

I smiled at him serenely, taking my cross between my thumb and forefinger. "Thank you for coming so quickly."

He nodded. "Ma'am, do you need us to take you to the hospital?"

I looked down at myself and grimaced; my usually starched, white apron was all blood-stained and crumpled. "Oh, no, thank you. I don't do hospitals anymore. I'll be fine. Really. Y'know, I'll just patch myself up and move on like I always do." I gently punched the air and smiled ruefully. He looked at me with doubt in his eyes but, nevertheless, took the hint and left with his crew.

I settled down on the porch step and, with my hands on my knees, shivered in the cold. It was beginning to snow and Springfield was starting to look like it was getting a fresh coat of white paint. I looked up at the fat flakes falling from dusky pink clouds, and noticed a small, blue-feathered bird weaving and arcing its way through the sky. An overwhelming feeling of hope rose in me, and I soaked the moment up.

* * *

Timidly, I pushed wide the cracked and battered door, which was swinging gently on its hinges. The farmhouse interior was a blackened, scorched mess. I felt sorry for it; it needed some love injecting back into its walls. Dragging my suitcase up the stairs, I entered the first room, which was clean and modest. Stripping off to my underwear, I examined my side, tending to the puncture wound running from front to back. Using a wet sponge, I dabbed away the blood, pain zipping through my abdomen as my body repaired itself little by little. Pulling on jeans and a blue sweater from my case, I checked out the other rooms.

The last bedroom had been made up ready to be lived in. Ready for her to come and be the bait in Alan's trap. The closet was full of beautifully tailored clothes. I dragged my hand across the fabrics and felt a strange sort of gnawing sentimentality in my stomach as I caught the faint scent of her. "I'll wait," I said to myself with crossed arms and a pout. "I'll wait here and she'll come back. No wandering off this time. No matter how long it takes."

Today

Pushing open the broken door, I looked at the damage Alan's people had done breaking in. "Poor little house," I sighed. "And after all that time we spent cleaning you." Fetching a broom, I swept up the fragments of a broken lamp then, feeling listless, hauled myself upstairs. I entered my bedroom, sat down on the edge of the bed, shivered in the cold, then rose to close the window. I stood by it for a while, looking down at the stack of wood, thinking about the moment Olivia had fallen down. Closing my eyes, I remembered her face smiling back at me. Though all the strife and pain, it was moments like that that helped me through. But for how long?

Stopping outside the door to Olivia's room, I hovered for a moment before entering. Most of the clothes Alan had sent over one and a half months ago were still there, lining the closet: her clothes, from her previous life, though she'd never known it. Her words from the previous day stood out in my mind: 'I wish I'd known you before'. Yesterday seemed so distant now. _I wish I'd had more time with her,_ I thought drearily, as I tied my hair into a ponytail.

Alone in the house, I felt it more strongly than before: the pinch of rejection. But it was me who had pushed, and she'd gone. How could I blame her for that? Especially when it was my almost death that had led her into the arms of the enemy that night. I wished I'd known sooner that she hadn't left me in the hospital, but was taken from me against her will. I held my chest as I considered the horror of what they might have done to her. That, were it not for Alan, she might still have been in that terrible asylum. I thought back to my anger at her absence, of my selfish desire to be cared for when I should have been concerned for her. I should have trusted that she would have come back for me if she could.

I ran my fingertips over my lips and chin, remembering our times together when we were both here last: the quiet glances, the arguments, the closeness and electricity. The love. It had grown day by day. The largest problem I faced was that I could not find a reason not to want her in my life. But I didn't deserve to be loved after all the truths I had kept from her. It could never be that easy. She would never forgive me and I would never forgive myself.

If Olivia chose to die today, it would be my fault. I lay down on her bed, clutching her pillow, aching for her to slide onto the bed beside me and fold her arms around me. I quietly wept myself to sleep, dreaming that I might wake up in her arms again. But could a sinner like me really have what I wanted? I very much doubted it.


	13. Chapter 13

Forty-five days ago

I was all prepared, clothes changed, ready for the challenge Alan had laid out before me. Sweeping hair behind my ears, I marched down the corridor towards his office, but stopped when I saw the mess of letters on the floor.

"Jesus, Alan, I thought you were gonna get one of the staff to clear this junk up?" I shouted through the doorway. Picking up the mail, I let out an annoyed sigh before entering the room. Tossing the envelopes onto the desk, one of them caught my attention. I turned it over in my hands and ran my finger nervously along the sealed edge, before pushing it deep into my coat pocket, and vigorously rubbing my face.

"Yes, yes," he muttered without looking up from his paperwork.

Shaking my head, I squeezed shut my eyes. "Y'know what. Forget it."

"Forget what? Make sense, woman."

"This dastardly plan of yours. I won't be a part of it. And you can stick this hollow existence. I don't want to be a part of your world anymore."

He looked up and noticed the pile of envelopes on his desk. "Is this about one of those letters again?" he questioned rhetorically. "Honestly, if you don't like receiving them, then why do you continue to pay for the service? Move on properly for the first time in your life. Ignore the past. You could be an incredibly powerful woman if only you'd forget everything."

"Drop dead, Alan. Once and for all, go on, do it, and do everyone a favor." I grabbed the nearest liquor bottle, walked out and slammed the door behind me.

"You'll come back. You always do," I heard him shout out to me.

Sure, we'd had the same conversation many times before, and I had always come back. This time, I wondered whether it would be different. For now, I just wanted somewhere quiet to get drunk.

* * *

I pitched the half empty scotch bottle into the farmhouse fireplace and watched it shatter dramatically, glass slumping between coals, and alcohol seeping through the grate to pool on the hearth. "Who _are_ you, Olivia? What do you represent?" I screamed to myself, pulling the earrings from my ear lobes, tearing the watch from my wrist and throwing them after the bottle. "Petty possessions paid for by the acts of a person I said I'd _never_ become." I tugged the necklace free of the tight shirt I was wearing and I looked at it: a symbol of my descent, and a constant reminder of my unenviable condition. Once kept as a reminder to never become a monster, it fast became the symbol of the power I wielded. Tears streamed their way down my hot cheeks as I unclasped the necklace and extended my arm over the grate, watching it swing back and forth. "Too late." I let it drop. "Too damned late."

"I won't do your dirty work any longer, Alan," I shouted to the skies, batting furiously at my heart with my fist. "I won't take another innocent lamb to your slaughter, let alone to your marital bed." I closed my eyes to suppress the gnawing guilt, my bottom lip twitching. Finding a box on the mantel, I pulled out and scored a match across the bare brick wall. I let it drop into the fireplace and immediately flames began to spit and spark as the liquor caught. The pendant of the necklace glowed in the heat as the shape of the black rose began to tarnish and char, becoming almost indistinguishable from the ash and embers that surrounded it. I watched it fade with a heavy heart.

Burdened by my own wicked tendencies, and having so little to live for in this small town, I saw no alternative. "Goodbye, Alan. Goodbye, Springfield," I said with a solemn shake of my head. I was running my free hand roughly through my hair when I noticed an additional flicker of light out of the corner of my eye: a splash of liquor near my feet had set alight, taking with it a few old boxes and blankets.

Before I had a chance to panic, the room was aflame, with me standing helpless in the center. Every blink of my eyes brought the sight of diminishing escape routes. I began to hyperventilate, almost frozen with panic. After a few minutes, I finally came to my senses and ducked down, grabbing a stray rug from the floor to place over another that was covered in tiny glowing embers, like beady little eyes staring back at me, threatening to catch light any second.

With due care and quick steps, I made my way back to the front door. The fire seemed to follow me, catching from one drape to the next, pulling at the wooden shutters and etching gray ghosts onto the walls. Coughing, I grabbed hold of the door handle, but the heat seared my hand. I looked, wide-eyed with shock at my raised, red and blistering flesh. No matter how much I tried, I could not sustain my hold long enough to turn it. I called through frantically for assistance, but I was just like a tree falling in the woods. It didn't matter what sound I made. "I don't wanna go this way," I screamed with a strained sob, praying for a miracle. I thrust my boot against the wood but it refused to shift. My eyes darted towards the hinges and found that the door was designed to open inwards. I gritted my teeth and pulled out my gun from the back of my jeans. Taking aim at the door, I pulled off a shot at the frame. I missed and the bullet dented the lock. Smoke was stinging my eyes, making them water. I took a blind shot, mostly through frustration and sheer panic. When I looked, the door frame had cracked giving me just enough of a finger hold to make my escape.

Once outside, I breathed a deep sigh of relief, air refreshing my lungs. With the sound of a fire truck registering faintly in my ears, I turned and stumbled behind the house, toward big green blobs which I figured were trees. Still bleary-eyed, I found a large barn, beside which was a trough filled with rain water. Wincing with pain, I fell to my knees and washed the soot from my hands. My scorched palms were already regenerating to perfect skin. As the waters settled, I stared at the rippling reflection of the trees and sky behind and above me; a lump formed in my throat and I couldn't help but cry a little. Resentfully plunging my hands back into the water to distort the surface, I swept it up and over my face.

Today

"I've heard of a wire cilice but that is something else," mused Alan with a look of distinct dissatisfaction on his face.

I looked around the familiar scene of Alan's office. _Back in the lion's den,_ I thought. "Uh? What is?" I asked, shaking my head and diving straight for the decanter, my hands shaking as I tipped the amber liquid into a tumbler, the tray of glasses clinking.

"Your little... moral compass." He indicated towards the cross, which he was unwilling to pick up, or even look at directly. "I saw the effect it had on you. I'm not blind, Olivia."

"It's not like that." I pushed his hand away roughly.

"Then it's not to remind you to be penitent?" he asked with narrowed, doubtful eyes.

"Well, yeah, it is, kinda." I bit my lip and really thought about why I was still wearing it. "No," I said strongly. "I don't know. I don't wear it to remind me of what's a sin and what isn't." I set down my glass and dragged my hand across my cheek, letting out an irritated sigh of frustration. "I don't need to be told those things, or warned, when I commit them."

"Then take it off, it... concerns me, and I don't like you wearing it." He pursed his lips when I cast him a harsh look. "Though I suppose it has a nice sense of irony. One in the eye for the religious followers," he smirked devilishly.

"Don't talk like that, Alan; it demeans us both."

"If you have no reason for wearing it, why do so?" he asked with genuine interest sparkling in his eyes.

I gritted my teeth and groaned. "You don't get it, do you, Alan?" I said, shaking my hands in his direction "This is _all_ I have left of her. The only thing I have that is hers. She entrusted it to me." I tugged at the necklace. "It's all I've got because she couldn't handle being with me. Satisfied? She _left_ me."

"It looked to me as though you did the leaving -"

"She told me that it wouldn't work, okay?" I exhaled unsteadily, my knees suddenly weak. "The night you turned me into this... mess, I took that beautiful, intelligent, gracious woman and ripped at her neck 'til she lay dying and, not satisfied with watching her fade away, I forced her into a situation where she felt that she _had_ to become like me... like us, rather than die. She fought her resentment of me and failed, and you know what, I would have failed too. If I were her I'd have shot me by now. Who does that? Mm? Who sees the person who hurt them most and takes them in, cares for them?" My fingernails dug at my palms. "Somehow she did, because she's still a fricken saint regardless of the blood that runs in her veins. I let myself fall into the trap of being like you, Alan. I resent _myself_ for that, and I don't blame her for hating me."

"She doesn't hate you, Olivia, quite the -"

"It may not show in her eyes... but... but, I don't know. She's not the kind of person who shows hate easily. It doesn't sit well with her because it goes against everything she stands for." I found myself almost shouting at him. "D'you realize how serious this is? Because Natalia would have trouble shooting the devil a cold look." I shook my head and threw back a finger of whiskey. "You know what makes me really mad?"

"What?" he demanded impatiently, rolling his eyes whilst trying to shield my arms from flailing in case I doused his precious desk with alcohol.

"I had five... almost six years to find her and at least _apologize_. But no, I was too self-centered for that. That poor woman had nothing, and look at me... look at my life... I had _everything_."

"You thought she had died, Olivia. There was no searching to be done."

My cheek twitched. "Did I even think of her? Huh? Did I ever care what her name was?"

"You kept her necklace; surely that indicates -"

I interrupted, pulling at the cross around my neck. "Caring now doesn't count."

"If you'll listen, Olivia," he said, disgruntled, "I might actually tell you something of interest."

"Fine, blow my mind." I splayed my hands at my ears.

"I trust you've noticed the rose, your brand, which we burn onto -"

I snapped my fingers. "Cut to the chase, Alan."

"When we, to put it kindly, recovered you from Ravenwood, we found, coiled in the palm of your hand, a necklace with a rose-shaped pendant. You lashed out at anyone who tried to take it from you and you wore it from that day, each and every day."

"So what?"

"You said it was hers."

"Her as in Natalia, her?" I swallowed hard and raised my eyebrows expectantly.

"Your first victim."

"So what? So I took something from a victim, b... f... d." I covered my mouth with my hand and watched him move around the room. "Have you forgotten what we came here for?" I looked at him, wide-eyed and expectant.

"Ah." He plunged one hand into a pocket and perched his behind on the edge of the desk. "I was hoping you would have reconsidered by now."

"This isn't a decision I've taken lightly, Alan. I want it to end and I want it to end today." I nodded. "I had my chances."

"You really wanted to be good, didn't you?" he sighed.

"Lost cause from the start. I don't like weakness and being the person I was... that was weakness. So if I can't be _good_, I'd rather be dead and gone." Standing up broadly, I threw back the rest of the drink. "One thing I like about you, Alan: you agree to something, and you follow through. I admire that. So let's go do the deed."

"I won't kill you."

"What?"

"I won't kill you," he repeated soberly.

"Why not?" I yelped.

"You need to recover your memories before you can make a judgement on yourself."

"If I wait long enough for that, I'll go mad thinking about what I've done. And besides, I know enough. I can't bear this sword hanging over my head, waiting for it to drop, waiting to become someone I hate." I closed my eyes and shook my head. "I'm Damocles if I do and Damocles if I don't. Catch my drift?"

He got up and began rooting around on one of the shelves. "I didn't show you this before because I was concerned it would push you further away. I wanted you vulnerable and ready for the kill. This, however, may change matters." He set down a dark wooden box and pulled open the lid. It creaked.

"Your victim trophies?" I asked, puzzled.

"On the contrary, Olivia. These are your possessions... not mine."

"My..." I stumbled forward, looking at the contents side on and with a suspicious eye. Tentatively, I poked around with a wary finger. The first thing I found was a bundle of letters, all but one unopened and with postmarks dating back years. I frowned with confusion. "I don't get it."

"From a detective agency, I believe," he explained.

I sank down into a chair and stared at my name printed on the first envelope. "I paid for a search to find Natalia?" I asked hopefully.

"I told you, you thought she was dead," he replied with irritation.

Hesitantly and with much curiosity, I pulled the first letter free of the ribbon and unstuck the envelope. Carefully unfurling the paper inside, I cleared my throat, and then read aloud: "Dear Miss Spencer. We have received your bank transfer and have assigned one of our investigators to your case." I scanned through the boring details until I reached the information that would change everything. "As requested, our team will send you quarterly updates on the location and status of your daughter -" I stopped and closed my eyes. "Daughter," I breathed. "I have a daughter," I whispered to myself, finding a familiar joy rising inside me. I continued to read, "- and your ex-husband Phillip Spaulding." I read the sentence over a few times. "Spaulding?" I looked up at Alan.

"My son." He looked uncomfortable even mentioning Phillip. "He became... unstable. Your marriage did not end well and ended in divorce. He took Emma against your will."

"Emma," I said quietly, taking it all in. "Was Phillip a... is he... one of us?"

He caught my meaning. "Who knows. I don't believe so. They left Springfield long before I turned."

"The letters." I held them up. "I don't get it. Why would I pay out for all this information and never read it?"

"I believe you just wished to know she was alive. You informed me at the time that you had paid for constant surveillance and protection to ensure the safety of my granddaughter."

"Your grand-... oh yeah." I blinked a couple times, trying to get my head around it all.

Dropping the letters to one side, I sifted through the box and found a small photograph of a sweet-faced, brown-haired girl, no more than one year old. "Oh my..." I cracked with emotion. "She'll have grown a lot since this was taken." I held the picture to my chest.

"I'm sure she's grown to be as beautiful as her mother is." He looked at me kindly, a wistfulness in his eyes.

"Let's hope she's not as screwed up as her mother is." I rubbed and pinched the bridge of my nose. "So I _was_ a Spaulding after all." I puffed out my cheeks and tilted my head to one side.

"Twice," he said.

I pressed at my temple, pulling at the edge of my eyebrow. "Huh?"

"We were married, for a time, before Phillip."

"You're not kidding, are you?" My eyes grew wide with disbelief. "Actually, nothing surprises me anymore." I dismissed my thoughts with a wave of my hand. "You didn't think to tell about any of this sooner?" I picked up the letters again and wafted them in Alan's face.

"I didn't believe that reminding you of your humanity would help in your recovery. I thought perhaps a fresh start -"

"A fresh start so you could mold me into the perfect business partner and lover to sit at your right hand for eternity? Is that what it was?"

"Well since Natalia disappeared from the picture and you returned, yes."

I blinked and drew vague circles in the air with my finger. "Wait, are you telling me that you had designs on Natalia, like... _forever_ designs?"

"She's a beautiful woman."

"Yeah, a beautiful woman who, I'm guessing, didn't want you?"

"Those women are usually the ones we crave, aren't they?" he asked with a wry smile on his lips.

Rubbing my knuckles over my collarbone, I coughed. "You know... Natalia was the best thing that ever happened to me, and I was the worst thing that ever happened to her. So what do I do? Do I thank you or hate you for bringing us together?"

"Which time?"

"Wh..." I shook my head. "What?"

"Which time? Because if you mean the first time, at the restaurant, then I didn't have as much input on the choice and cannot be blamed. However the second time -"

"You had _no_ part in my meeting Natalia again; she searched for me. She cared for me after one of your heavy-handed idiots clonked me over the head, causing me to lose my memory."

"I keep forgetting that you've lost your mind."

"Memory," I corrected, agitated. I tipped my head forward and looked up at him through my eyelashes. "Please, Alan, buy a clue. You being all obtuse doesn't help me get this straight in my head."

He looked at me a little bemused. "I think you misunderstand, Olivia. You were sent to make a home at the farmhouse, and I intended for Natalia to visit you so that you might sire her for me. You defied me and left. Since you both disappeared on the same day, I assumed you'd taken her for yourself to spite me."

My eyes widened. "I did end up at the farmhouse, so what does that mean?"

"Perhaps you had changed your mind. You're a fickle woman, after all." He pursed his lips. "Of course, we had sent over many of your belongings..."

"But someone stopped me before I got there." My mind was racing.

"Well it wasn't one of my staff. Under no circumstances did I send anyone to attack _you_."

It seemed strange that someone who, only days ago, was set on controlling every element of my life, was now adamantly denying he'd sent someone to hurt me. He was a proud man and so I believed him. "Well, whoever it was that cracked open my skull... I'd like to meet them and explain the trouble they've caused." I bit my lip, considering how much I'd learned by starting from scratch; how I might never have had those days at the farmhouse with Natalia without that bump to my head.

I looked back at the box of my possessions. "I want to find my daughter, Alan."

"Are you sure? You always said that she wouldn't want to know a woman such as yourself."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Y'know I get the real feeling that I didn't much like the person I was. She... Natalia... believed I didn't have to be that way anymore, and I want to try... for myself... for my daughter." A small, genuine smile crossed Alan's lips; he turned away but I still saw it. "And though Natalia's worked out that she can't be with me, I'm not gonna let that crush me however h-hard that is." I looked at the floor briefly to compose myself. "Look, I might go back to the farmhouse. I need some space to think."

Alan coughed into his hand and then crossed the room to look at some papers. "What is it with you and that farmhouse, which, strangely, you seem so dearly to love? I don't understand the lure of the place at all."

"It wasn't... isn't the house; it's her... always her." I rubbed my neck and followed the line of the chain down to the cross. "And if I can't have her, then I wanna be around the things she loved. I don't care if the house was yours to start with: we made it our own."

Alan sat down at his desk and checked his watch. "Well I wouldn't bother visiting the house now."

"Why? Have you leveled it and built a mall _already_?" I joked dismissively.

"Not leveled, no," he muttered.

I tipped my head to one side. "Alan," I said, then waited.

"Well since the house has been vacated and it _is_ mine to do with what I wish, I decided it was time for a little insurance claim."

"When?" I said, exasperated, with arms crossed.

"Oh, I don't know..."

"Cut the crap and tell me what time one of your apple-polishers is set to torch the place?" I swept my hair behind my ear and turned to listen. "Mm?" He remained stoically quiet. "It's now, isn't it?" I nodded, throwing my hands up.

"Perhaps," he said, adjusting his tie.

"Natalia has something there which is precious to her." I held out my hand and clicked my fingers impatiently. "Give me the keys to your car. I won't scratch it, I promise."

"What makes you think I'm going to give you my keys, Olivia?"

"Because, even though you might say different, I happen to think there's still a working, albeit a little cobwebby and shriveled, _caring_ heart inside that chest of yours." I pointed over my shoulder. "Or you wouldn't have given me that box."

Alan took a deep breath and fumbled in his pocket. "Fine."

I grabbed the key from his outstretched hand. "There you go, Alan. That wasn't so hard, was it? And you never know... someday, you'll be a real boy."

* * *

"Ah... crap," I whined when I saw smoke rising from the house, and not in a cute farmhouse way but in an arson way. The tires screeched as I pulled up the brake early and swung the car round to butt up against the porch deck, leaving deep tire marks in the lawn. Throwing open the car door, I dived out and ran to look through the window: the house was already well ablaze, but there was no sight of whichever idiot Alan hired to start the fire. Warily, I opened the screen door and then, with much trepidation, reached forward to open the main one. I stopped suddenly, my action jarred by an instinct to not proceed. No matter how hard I tried to fight the instinct, there was a brick wall in my mind that I couldn't break down. I pursed my lips together. "Other door," I told myself, raising a finger in the air.

I shouldered open the side door and stepped into the kitchen. "Why are you even doing this?" I said aloud to myself. "Burned is _not_ a good look." Taking a deep breath, I hunched over and pulled a fire blanket from its housing on the wall, then wrapped it over my shoulders. Smoke fluidly filled the air, while fire crackled and sprang up from every direction like so many annoying jack-in-the-boxes. I pulled myself against the wall, each step careful and considered. My face glowed in the heat and my eyes stung from the irritation as I made the ascent up the stairs. "I can take a little pain and I'm p_ret_ty sure if anything gets injured it'll repair." I was talking out loud to keep myself focused. "Yeah, that's what will happen." I grimaced as I made the leap onto the landing. "Why did I decide to do this?" Running my hands through my hair, I breathed so deeply that I had a coughing fit.

"Okay, okay, Natalia's bedroom," I choked. Only having been in the room once with permission, I felt kinda naughty entering this time. Once in, I hurried over to her bedside table and frantically pulled open each drawer in turn until I found what I was looking for. "There you are." I paused as I looked at the photograph. "I sure hope you appreciate this, Natalia." From my pocket I pulled out the picture of my daughter and held them side by side. "I know I did."

Back out in the hallway, I went for the stairs but found them even more aflame. "Shit. Forget burned, the house just became an incinerator." I paced up and down outside the bedrooms, considering my options. Biting my lip, I re-entered Natalia's room, backing up against the closed door. "You've done it once, and it's better than being engulfed, right?" I told myself with a nod. I walked towards the window with a determined stride. An explosion rang out as one of the downstairs windows blew. "I've gotta get out of here. Gotta get to the church and find Natalia."


	14. Chapter 14

Forty-five days ago

Shock had pretty much cleared the alcohol from my system. Almost setting myself on fire made me even more sure of my decision. There was no going back.

I found a piece of chalky rock, tossed it in the air, and watched it spin in the light of the sinking sun. Catching it, I entered the barn, climbed to the highest level via the ladders and began stripping off, save for my shirt, pants and boots, to discard my singed sweater and blackened coat. Using the rock, I scored six words onto the wooden wall. Standing back, I viewed my work. There written was the watchword that I'd stuck by; the most important rule in my loosely-followed moral code. A reminder to prevent me from ever having to feel the way I had all those years ago, after the biggest mistake of my life, after her. Despite being as stubborn as a mule and sticking to the promise I'd set myself, I'd still watched others be killed, traded souls, and shamelessly drunk whomever I wanted. I had told myself it was all right, that as long as I didn't sink to the lowest level, it would be okay. It wasn't. I was addicted to that lifestyle. It had to stop.

Dusting myself down, I began talking aloud. "Hey, God, I guess we need to talk. Uh, it's been a while. Please forgive me for my trespasses, if you want to; not sure _I_ would in your situation, but you're _better_ than me, that's the whole _point_." I pouted with consideration, trying with all my might to speak with earnest. "I know I've been stupid..." I shook my head "_wicked_. I've been the worst person, thing, being, creature, whatever, but y'know, that's how things _are _these days. It's dog eat dog out there and, y'know, things eat other things. I've taken from people what I needed to survive, y'know? A girl's gotta do... it's just been part of who I am. At least I think that's why I did what I did. Not an excuse, I-I know, but you give second chances, right?"

I swung open the creaking hatch doors and looked out at the beautiful, clear winter sky, and took in large lungfuls of now smoky air. I looked across the dusky landscape and down to the farmhouse close by, where a fire crew were departing after cleaning up my botched attempt at doing something right. "I've never been that nice; never really on the right side of the law; never loved people like I should have. I never cared much at all, except for myself and... and my daughter." I cried a little, contemplating my past mistakes and struggles. My mouth shrugged along with my shoulders, as a deep ragged breath slipped from my throat. "If I can be saved, then let me live. If I'm beyond salvation then let me stay dead." I pulled out my gun once again, flipped off the safety and slumped down on patch of strewn hay. Letting out a long exhale, I pressed the tears away from my eyes.

A blue jay fluttered down to perch on the pulley hook outside the hatch, which swayed gently in the wind. "Hey there, you might not wanna watch this," I called out to the innocent, perplexed-looking bird. Raising the barrel to my head, my eyes fixed on the distant horizon, unafraid but unhopeful, I eased the trigger.

Today

With a hard push, I forced open the window and took a deep breath. "Fresh air never smelled so good." No sooner had my smile formed than it had dropped. "Oh... _gosh_," I said flatly as I turned around. Natalia's bedroom looked pretty much as I remembered it; except for the window. I knew for certain that I had _not_ closed it behind me when we'd climbed out the previous day. Pretty much for certain. Maybe.

I swallowed nervously and took a chance. "Natalia?" I shouted as loudly as I could, rubbing at the back of my neck. There was no response. I bit my lip. Another sound of smashing glass pierced through the noise of raging fire. I held my forehead. "You're probably imagining things, Olivia; the window probably closed itself. Yeah, that's what happened. I've got to get to the church to find her; to say sorry and goodbye." I placed my hands on the frame, readying myself to climb out. A full minute passed. I couldn't move.

Closing my eyes momentarily, I ran back to the bedroom door, smoke already filtering through. My instinct told me to use the corner of the fire blanket to ease open the door by its handle. Immediately I had to shield my face from the cloud of heat. "Oh God, please don't let crispy, fried _Spencer_ be on the menu for today." Kicking each door open, I found every room empty until only mine remained. I shouldered my way through it and dropped everything. Through the clouds, I could make out her indistinct figure.

My throat could barely manage a croak. "Natalia?" She was laid out on my bed, eyes closed, serene and motionless. I turned back to close the door, and stuffed the gap at the bottom to seal it. Rolling her onto her back, I pushed the pillow out of her hands and shook her by the shoulders. "Natalia," I said, this time more sternly and clearly. "You can't stay sleeping." I tapped at her face, but she'd been inhaling the smoke and was out for the count. She was so still, it frightened me more than I could express, and that gave way to anger. "Come on, princess. Stop being so stubborn," I scolded. "Don't go punishing like me like this." My shoulders sank. "I _need_ you to wake up, Natalia, come _on_. Wake _up_," I shouted, holding her cheeks in my hands. Tears streamed down my face, which was already grimy with soot. "I promised, didn't I? That I'd come back and that I'd keep on asking you questions about you? Well here I am and I have plenty, and you wouldn't want to disappoint me, would you?" I shook her again but she still failed to stir.

"It's never too late, you hear me?" With a reluctant sob, I placed a soft kiss on her unresponsive lips and laid myself over her, putting my ear to her chest. It wasn't that I expected to hear a heart beat; I just wanted to feel her close. "Please?" I begged, using my hand to stroke her cheek. "Please?" I paused as a sweet tickle of sensation swept across the pad of my thumb. Under my head I felt her chest rise, followed by the sensation of her fingers running through my hair.

"Hey," I heard her mutter softly.

I sat up. "Hey," I smiled through my tears.

"Is this a dream?" She looked me in the eyes with a sweet smile, and then around the room, confused by the thick, smoke-filled air.

"House... fire. I'll explain later." I grabbed her by the waist and pulled her first to sitting, then standing. She became less disorientated with every step toward our only route of escape. Climbing out of my bedroom window, we sat on the sloping roof of the porch and edged along steadily, trying not to slip down the tiles. "Natalia, hold my..." She immediately grasped my hand as if she'd been waiting for me to ask. "I'm parked right below here, okay? See?" We leaned over and almost lost our balance. "Change of plan. Don't look." We lay back for a second and looked at the gray plumes of smoke rising in the blue sky. I turned to her. "I'm gonna lower you down and then I'll go after."

"I trust you," she nodded, squeezing my hand.

"Okay then." I needed faith in myself, but it was hard to find. "Let's make some good dents in Alan's car, right?" I forced a laugh, then, looking down again, winced. It wasn't a big drop, but falling wrong could mean broken ankles or worse, necks, and I wasn't sure if we could come back from that kind of accident. Guiding her around, I lay side on and lowered her off the roof, wedging my boot in the gutter and using all my strength to get her down safely.

"I'm down," she called up, her sneakers squeaking on the well-waxed surface of Alan's car roof.

I breathed a sigh of relief. "'Kay," I called down apprehensively, sucking air between my clenched teeth. As I closed my eyes, shattered glass blew out of two windows simultaneously, and I instinctively hunkered down. My foot slipped and I desperately scrambled to right myself. Flames from the bedroom and bathroom caught new air and spilled out of the window frames like arms reaching out to grab me. Scraps of drape and fragments of paper got swept up and pulled out into the hot turbid air. I choked in the fumes. The tiles under my hands were getting hot: the porch had caught fire too.

"Quickly, Olivia," Natalia called up to me, shielding her face with her hands.

My panic levels were reaching their peak. I had visions of Natalia being caught up in the fire, gone from me forever. A wave of sadness swept over me as I felt the true loss of her in a single moment. I couldn't bear the idea that I could be the cause of harm to her again. "Get down from the car, Natalia. Get to safety," I called to her.

"No. I'm staying right here. You need someone to catch you."

"No," I almost screamed at her, my throat dry from the scorching heat and smoke inhalation. "Get away from here; the house could collapse at any moment."

I heard her voice crack with emotion. "I choose to stay and catch you. So you get down here, you hear, missy?"

Shuffling further down, I got to the edge and rolled over onto my stomach, letting my legs hang over the edge. Slowly, but surely, I eased myself down, trying not to accidentally kick Natalia. Feeling her hands firmly on my hips, I let myself drop, landing awkwardly and almost slipping off altogether. "Whoa." She held me steady, my back at her front. Her hands had slipped to my thighs, and she held me to her tightly. I couldn't help but lean back and revel in the feeling of closeness. Slowly, I turned and we found ourselves inches apart. I bit my lip and found myself saying: "Hey."

"Hey," she replied letting go of me to raise her hand and curl it over her mouth, fingernails resting on her upper lip. She tried to avoid my eyes, the proximity too intense for her.

"We should get down," I nodded.

"Sure," she replied, then with great ease she jumped onto the hood and walked her way down. I shrugged and followed. However, I completely failed to be any kind of graceful, and slipped, my ass sliding down the windshield and coming to a painful rest on the wipers. Natalia sucked on her bottom lip, and I could see she was trying not to laugh, a frown on her forehead. Shaking her head, she let a smirk form. "You rescue me from a burning building, haul yourself out of a window, climb down a roof and only _now_ do you fall on your butt?" As she said it, she looked back at the house, a look of realization on her pretty face, like she'd only just noticed she'd avoided being turned to dust. She held her throat and gasped sharply, on the verge of saying something. She frowned, this time with unease. "You... you saved me. I fell asleep and... you saved me. How? How did you even know I'd be here?"

"I _didn't_," I exclaimed. "I came back for something else." Blinking, I jumped off the car and took Natalia by the hand to walk her some distance away from the house. Looking back at the blaze, I shook my head at the sight, shading my eyes with my hands.

"Did Alan try to end your life this way?" Natalia looked at me with concern, reaching out to touch me. "I told him not to use fire; please don't tell me he did this because I told him it would terrify you."

"You told him what? No. I mean... why did you tell him that?"

"Well -" she cleared her throat "- I figured you'd never want to be caught in a fire ever again."

"Yeah, well... that's for sure." I dusted down my sleeves and wiped my hands on my jeans. "Wait, what do you mean _again_?"

She looked at me through squinting eyes. "You know how we repaired the house after a fire?" She cleared her throat again. "Well, uh... you started it and you kinda got stuck. But y'know -" she said almost cheerily, "- you got out okay and these things happen."

"They do to me." I looked at her wide-eyed.

"Thank you for saving me."

"No problem. Maybe one day we might be able to call it even."

Natalia hugged herself and quickly sank to her knees on the frosted grass. She placed a hand on the ground, right about the place where I'd woken after my hit to the head over a month ago. "Olivia," she said quietly, then looked up at me and bit the inside of her cheek.

"I know. I bet you're wondering what your life would have been like if you'd never met me." I knelt opposite her.

"No. No, I would never wish you away," she said, shaking her head vigorously. "I'm so sorry." She looked down and frowned, rubbing her hands together guiltily. "I just wish things had happened differently. I turned myself into this. What I am wasn't your fault, it was mine. You have to know that. I was weak."

"Look at me," I demanded. "Look at me," I followed in barely a whisper. She did so. "You're the strongest person I know. Sometimes actions speak louder than prayers. I get that. I lived by it for the longest time but you changed me; you opened the door for me. I can see things clearly now. And the time we shared together, I'd never give that up. And I'll help you through this too. If you'll let me."

"I just want to know where I stand in the world." She looked at me pleadingly. "You know? I asked God to give me a sign but now I don't know what the sign was. Was it the fire; was it you rescuing me?"

"Does it matter as long as you're all right?" I asked. She shrugged. "You're tough, Natalia, and that's a good quality, but you're too tough on yourself. You've got to let yourself have the good stuff in life." I closed my eyes and tipped my head back for a second. "You've gotta realize that God wants you to be happy as much as He wants you to be good. Don't keep beating yourself up and beating yourself down. Stop believing that you don't deserve what you crave. It's not a sin to want to be loved." I bit my lip as my breathing deepened. "I know," I raised an eyebrow, "I think I know... I figured out that you only let yourself be close to me when you thought it would cancel out the past, and when it didn't feel the way you thought it would, it scared you." I grabbed her hands and tugged her towards me. "You can _have_ what you want. You're a _good_ person and you deserve to be happy. You say that God loves us all, but you act like you're not a part of that."

"I know, but it's hard, because I keep making the wrong decisions."

I shook my head. "You can only do what you feel is right at the time. I think we both know that it's less about the decisions we make, and more about how we treat the people around us." Natalia nodded at me. "I _finally_ wanna live my life to benefit others. Starting with you." She went to speak so I put my hand up. "And I know I've got a lot to make up for, but I don't want to use the past as an excuse anymore."

"The person you used to be... do you think you can let it go? To not be controlled by what people expect you to be?"

"Well you manage it, don't you? I look up to you for that; not many people take the hard path like you did. Besides, I know I'm getting there -" I took a deep breath, "- because no one could feel this much love without knowing that they have a working heart." I pulled her hands to my chest to echo my sincerity. "I also found myself feeling sorry for _Alan_ today, so that's gotta mean something, right?" A smile twitched at the corner of Natalia's mouth. "I'm gonna start leading a life worth living and it's going to start... by tracking down a little girl." I smiled.

"A little girl?" Natalia looked at me perplexed. "Olivia... I don't..."

I pulled out the photograph from my back pocket proudly. "Her name is Emma and she's my daughter."

"I never knew." A tear ran down her face. "I'm so happy for you," she said genuinely. "I hope you find her."

"Come with me."

"I..." Natalia pulled her hands out of my grip. "Olivia, I don't know if I can be around you. It hurts to see you, without..."

My disappointment showed, my bottom lip twitching. "I know that I'm irascible and moody and... a plain ol' pain in the ass but, y'know what? I could be a good -" I stopped and swallowed, "- friend for you." I pouted thoughtfully as I leaned forward to stare deeply into her tearful eyes. "If nothing else."

"Olivia," she said meekly, rubbing at her forehead.

"I know, I know." I shook my head. "You wanna tell me off for putting you in this position. I know you told me that you couldn't be with me, and I see that you're tryin' not to hate me -"

"I _love_ you," Natalia uttered suddenly.

My chin shuddered and with the threat of tears in my eyes, I smiled, feeling compelled to respond despite my voice being constrained by the lump that had formed in my throat. "Then we're definitely even."

"I'm so sorry I pushed you away," she uttered softly. "It was mean... more than mean... cruel. I did get scared, like you said, and I'm sorry I made you feel so awful. I'm sorry you wanted it all to end," she said regretfully, running her hands through my hair. I leaned into the touch. As her fingertips drew lines down my jaw, I grabbed her hand and kissed her palm. "Olivia, I don't just love you, I want to _be_ with you. And it would be too hard to be around you and live with not _having_ you so I'm going to... politely decline, but I'll pray for you to find your daughter. I will."

"Listen to yourself. You want to be with me and you still won't. I _want_ you and you want me. So let yourself have a little happiness, Natalia."

She looked away. "When I was young I followed my heart and committed the sin that got me pregnant. I was blessed with a beautiful baby boy, but I lost him; he died when he was just a kid. I couldn't save him, Olivia." She looked sort of squashed and crumpled with emotion. "What if that happens to you? What if accepting you into my life, into my heart, means I'll lose you?"

"Would you rather have never had your son at all?"

"Of _course_ not." She pulled herself up straight, looking affronted. "_Never_. I'd never give up that time with my son for anything."

I saw her eyes dart and she looked back up to the blazing house, a mournful expression on her face. "Thinking about this?" I brought the photograph of her son up to her eye-line and she covered her mouth with surprise.

"You...?"

"It's what I really came back for. You were just a perk of my visit," I joked, handing the picture to her. "I know how much it helps to have something that connects us to the ones we've lost." Reaching up, I held her cross in my fist and pursed my lips.

She looked back at me, her confidence visibly rising. "Okay, so we do this," she said, pointing at the ground between us. "I'm telling you now that I need and love you, and I want you in my life and no, not just as a friend or companion, but as a great love. I know what it's like existing without you, and I know what it's like living with you and I want the latter. So much. More than anything. I wanna feel whole again and I trust you; I trust you not to hurt me." She looked a little perturbed. "But... but all along it's been me chasing after you. I asked you to hold me first, I kissed you first." She tilted her head to one side and looked at me contemplatively. "I -"

I silenced her by gently pressing my lips against hers, building toward an almost bruising kiss. I held her waist, drew her near and let my hands roam up and down her back and beneath her hips, tugging her close as she kissed my neck gently and whispered sweet nothings into my ear. I shook with happiness and desire. "I love -" My words were halted as we both heard the fire's roar change to a creak, then the sound of breaking wood. We looked up as we watched the roof of the porch pull away from the house, making a sound just like a falling tree. It crunched down hard on Alan's car, tiles skittering along and down the paintwork.

"Holy smoke," Natalia uttered into my cheek.

"Whoops." I bit my lip. "I promised him I wouldn't scratch it."

"Um, I'm sure he has plenty more."

We both collapsed into laughter.

Staring into her shining eyes, I suddenly thought of something. "I have a question."

"Yeah?" she said softly. Pulling her sleeve over her hand, she began sweeping the soft fabric over my soot-smudged cheeks, and then her own, the latter being my fault for kissing her without warning.

"What colour are my eyes, blue or what?" I asked. "Sounds like a dumb question but I can't remember, and I can't exactly see anywhere. Ya'know? I've clearly got used to not seeing myself but, and it sounds like the weirdest thing to say, but when you realize you can never see your reflection again it's the one thing you want to see."

Natalia opened her mouth to answer and then stopped, her mouth turned down at the corners. Her shoulders sagged and she looked at me as if I were a damp puppy. "Oh, Olivia. We need to get you a portrait artist, don't we? You don't know -"

"Don't toy with me like that, just tell me -"

"Green," she breathed. "The most amazing green eyes I have ever seen. I'll never forget the first time you looked at me with them, and I'll cherish the last." She took a breath and then carried on. "You're the most gorgeous creature, oh, that sounds wrong, I don't mean creature, sorry, person... I've ever seen, and you have the most wonderful mouth, I just want to kiss it _all_ the time." She gave me a peck on the lips as if to demonstrate. "And your nose wrinkles when you deny something. And I love your waist and strong arms... and your hands." She ran her palms over each mentioned part of my body.

"I can see those." I rolled my eyes.

"Then there's a look of childish glee you get when you're proud of yourself for something."

"Okay, okay, I get the idea." I smiled and took her cheek in my hand.

"And then there's _that_ look." She pointed at me. "Like you've never seen me before; like you'd never want anything more than you want me."

"I mean it."

Natalia looked up at the gray skies and a raindrop fell like a tear onto one of her apple rosy cheeks. "Quickly, it's going to pour down. Come with me," she said, eagerly pulling me up by my hand. "We can climb to the higher floor of the barn, open the hatch and wait for it to pass."

Looking back to the house I was sad to see the place going up in flames, but I knew we had to move on. I couldn't keep clinging to the safe things.

* * *

"What does it mean?" I asked, looking perplexed at the wall of the barn.

"I... it's a message," Natalia explained unhelpfully.

I traced my hand across it. "I know that. But what does it mean?"

"I don't quite know. It's odd." From behind a bale, she pulled out a blackened and burnt coat. She held the collar to her nose. "Smells like you."

"What? Like fire damage?" I rolled my eyes and held my arms out to my sides.

"No, silly." Checking the pockets she found a wad of bills, and a crumpled letter addressed to me. "I've seen this before; the day when I found out Alan was sending you after me." She looked perplexed and handed it over.

I could tell immediately what it was: another letter from the detective agency with news of my daughter.

We flopped down on the hay. "You think I'll ever get all my memories back?"

"Well, some scars stay to make us remember things." She pulled up my sleeve and ran her finger over the scar on my forearm. "And some stay to make us forget." Her fingertips danced across my forehead.

"I guess so." I smiled as we lay back in each other's arms and rolled over. "Ow," I said, eyes wide with shock.

"What did I do?" Natalia looked worried.

"Not you. There's -" with an awkward twist of my body, I felt underneath my back, "- something under me." I drew it out and held it up. "O_kay_, I though you didn't have a gun," I said to Natalia.

"Er, I don't. But _you_ do."

"Ya think? Really?"

"Yeah, you kinda shot me," she nodded.

"What?" I look at her aghast. "Exactly how forgiving are you, Natalia?" I shook my head. "Did I have some kind of personal vendetta against you?" I paused. "Did I try and attack you to take you for Alan, because he said that I -"

"No, no." She looked back up at the message. "And now I don't think you did it on purpose."

I handled the gun easily, flipping on the safety catch like it was second nature for me to be doing so. "So why is it here?"

Natalia looked around and pointed something out: a patch of darkness on a bale of hay. She winced and swallowed uncomfortably. "Okay, Olivia, um."

"What? What is it?"

"I kinda think you shot yourself in the head. It's blood."

I shook my head with confusion. "I doubt it. That's crazy. People like me, you and me, don't come back from that. Do they?"

"It would explain why your memories are taking so long to come back to you. Shooting yourself is big, and if your body is still repairing itself then memories would be the last to return after all the little surface repairs and motor-type-function things." She bit her lip. "I always wondered why that hit to your head would have had such a dramatic effect on you. But that's because it didn't. This did."

"This being... me shooting myself in the head?"

"Yeah, after you wrote the message."

"Me? I wrote that? Damn I'm weird." I shook my head, planting my hand in my hair to see if I could find an evidence of a bullet wound.

"Stop that." She pulled my arm down. "I think it means that maybe you did care. That you're not quite the person you thought you were." She placed a kiss on my forehead. "And that second chances definitely exist."

I wrinkled my nose. "I don't know. Seems a little cryptic for me. And a shot to the head seems a little, uh, violent. Why not a stake if I wanted to end it all?"

"A stake?" Natalia gasped. "Oh, no. How _horrible_. And how would you do that anyway?" she asked with raised eyebrows. "You'd have to wedge it pointing upwards and then lunge at -"

I winced. "Mm, no." I shivered, puffing up my cheeks and letting out a long exhale. "No more death talk. Ix-nay on the lay-say." I rubbed my forehead. "Anyway, if I am still on a long term memory repair then, before long, my head's gonna be fit to bursting with all sorts of stuff. Maybe even what happened here." I didn't want to think about it.

Natalia smiled at me, pulling my lips to hers briefly. "You almost killed me, you almost got burned up, you shot yourself, and then I almost got burned up. We've been though a lot. I'm sure we could get through anything together." She tapped at her temple and glanced out at the skyline. "Besides, I'm starting to think that we're being granted this time on this earth."

"Well... if you put it like that." I smiled and ran my hands through her hair. "Natalia?"

"Yeah?" She leaned in to kiss me again.

"You really do like kissing me, don't you?"

Her eyelashes fluttered coyly. "Oh, yeah, I do. A lot."

"I've never felt so content. And that's because of you." I took her hands in mine. "Now, is there anything else you haven't told me? I just wanna know we're starting with no more surprises. I don't want Alan to come pick up his car wreck and tell me another story I didn't want to hear."

"Well." Natalia looked half sorry and half sheepish. "There is just one last tiny thing." She pressed her thumb and forefinger together and winced. "In the interest of having a clean slate, I should probably tell you, um, and with no excuses about being scared and surprised and things like that. I should admit that..." she sucked on her bottom lip and looked cautious.

I rolled my eyes, shook my head and laughed. "I can take it, sweetheart." With my hands I motioned for her to speak. "Come on. Hit me."

Forty-one days ago

I awoke, my body repaired but large chunks of memory missing. My blank canvas and my second chance. An opportunity to redeem myself before my mind returned. The first sight that greeted my eyes was a sentence etched onto the wall. It read: 'Spare her, then spare them all.' I had no idea what it meant.

Little did I know my aide, saviour and one true love was a mere two hundred yards away, and, as soon as I made my way towards the farmhouse nearby, she, despite the pain from the cross around her neck, would whack me over the head with a very large stick.

As if I didn't have a big enough headache as it was.


End file.
